East of Eden

by John Steinbeck

Samuel said, “I’ll show your boys to you.” “No,” she said without emphasis. “Now, dearie, don’t you want to see your sons?” “No. I don’t want them.” “Oh, you’ll change. You’re tired now, but you’ll change. And I’ll tell you now—this birth was quicker and easier than I’ve seen ever in my life.” The eyes moved from his face. “I don’t want them. I want you to cover the windows and take the light away.” “It’s weariness. In a few days you’ll feel so different you won’t remember. ” “I’ll remember. Go away. Take them out of the room. Send Adam in.” Samuel was caught by her tone. There was no sickness, no weariness, no softness. His words came out without his will. “I don’t like you,” he said and wished he could gather the words back into his throat and into his mind. But his words had no effect on Cathy. “Send Adam in,” she said.