June’s perpetual cry that one cannot trust Henry with the truth. I see such a deformed picture of each in the other’s eyes. I must make terrific efforts to keep my Henry and my June. And they want to involve me in conflict, to pit me against one or the other. June wants this performance, because it is another manifestation of the attention we give her; she wants us to fight for her, Henry and me. That would give her the moment of hatred, or passion, in which she alone believes. She cannot live in halftones, in suggestion, in truth. My God, am I strong enough to help her?
