Free None So Blind by Barbara Fradkin Page A

relegated to the counter. Today, Green’s father had declined to come, citing fatigue, but Green suspected — indeed, hoped — that Aviva’s lungs were the main reason. Recently, however, his father’s skin looked greyer than ever and his stoop more pronounced.
    Amid the chaos, Green noticed his seven-year-old son casually slipping his Brussels sprouts under the table for the dog. A grin sneaked across the boy’s face, whether at the dog’s enthusiasm or his sister’s profanity was unclear.
    “In bad movies,” Hannah countered. “But on a college campus? You should see what it’s like, Dad. College profs hardly older than their students, strutting around campus like their dicks are a mile long —”
    “Hannah!” Sharon snapped. Tony burst out laughing, and, to her credit, Hannah flushed.
    “Sorry,” she muttered before reaching under the table to tickle her brother. “But he should learn this stuff. He’ll be after the girls himself soon enough and if you don’t want him to be a jerk —”
    “We have a little time yet before his education.”
    Hannah sighed. “All I’m saying is, these profs have it all offered to them on a silver platter. Hot young girls lining up to score with them to get the inside track, better marks, exam secrets, maybe just bragging rights. The whole place is floating in hormones.”
    “That doesn’t make it acceptable,” Green said. He could feel his lips tighten primly and he felt a hundred years old. It seemed a lifetime ago that he had been shamelessly prey to his hormones himself.
    Predictably, Hannah took up the challenge. “Acceptable’s got nothing to do with it. The temptation is there. Hard to resist. Some profs don’t even try.”
    “That’s why there are laws —”
    “Exactly!” Hannah flailed her fork, sending a Brussels sprout flying. Modo snapped it from the air. They all laughed.
    “Saved by the circus dog,” Green said, rising to pick up plates. “Let’s see what she thinks of dessert.”
    Hannah didn’t move. “Why do you never take me seriously? Why is my opinion always a joke, just because you’ve got a hundred years as a cop? I know something about this!”
    Green paused to study her. Spots of red stood out on her cheeks and her hazel eyes glittered as they met his. She was just finishing her first undergraduate year at Carleton University and had been frantically cramming for exams and completing papers. In recent weeks, she had rarely surfaced for dinner or conversation. He felt a twinge of worry that he had lost track of her. Perhaps this wasn’t the usual contrary Hannah; perhaps something was truly troubling her.
    He planted a quick kiss on her head. “Okay, let’s you and me talk about it later while we do the dishes.”
    “I’ve got a paper to do. It’s way overdue.”
    “Ten minutes? I could use your input.”
    It was half an hour before Sharon had shepherded the two younger children upstairs, leaving Hannah and Green to the peace of the kitchen. Now that silence had descended, Hannah was curiously tongue-tied.
    Green busied himself at the dishwasher. “Everything okay, honey?”
    “There’s no prof hitting on me, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
    “Then…?”
    “I just think it’s way too convenient, this amnesia crap. The guy murders his student but he’s such a hard-working, loving family man that he can’t live with himself so he forgets the whole thing? For years? Even with all the evidence piling up in court to remind him? Then, twenty years later, when he’s finally got parole coming up, he suddenly remembers? Boy, that’s some trick!”
    “I’m not saying I believe it.”
    “Good. ’Cause if you did, I’d say you needed a brain transplant.”
    “But the point is, the parole board seems to have swallowed it. At least some of the psychologists and counsellors.”
    “Then they’re dumb. I’m doing a paper on criminals and amnesia. A lot of them make it up — it’s the best defence, even when