I say, “Let’s go somewhere.”
There’s a tap on my shoulder.
“Come on, Noreen,” Freddy says. “Time for your injection.”
“Go away!” I hiss.
But of course she doesn’t. Eventually I let her take my arm and lead me out the door.
“I don’t know if you’ve heard, Winifred, but there’s a special place in hell for women who don’t help other women.”
“You’re lucky I’m the one who came looking for you and not Will,” she says.
“I am lucky. I’m a lucky, lucky girl. And you’re a good friend. A great friend. The bestest ever.” I throw my arm over her shoulders.
A giant shard of concrete rears up and attacks me. I stumble. Freddy catches me.
Metaphor!
We return to the first bar. “Great, you found her,” Will says. “Let’s go.”
Will and Javier hustle us into a pink taxi. Freddy rests her head on my shoulder. Javier is up front, talking to the driver. I lean back and look at Will’s profile, flickering in and out of the light cast by the streetlamps as we drive up Duval. He’s holding my hand, absently brushing his thumb back and forth across mine.
Why did I leave, why did I go roaming when I have this, right here? And I had to pick a
married
man, of all people? Classy, as Jane would say. She should talk, though. My moms have a hell of a lot of nerve, presuming to tell me who is and who isn’t marriage material.
But … do they also have a point? What exactly am I doing? Is this me changing my mind? Is this me never having made up my mind in the first place? Do I want to call this off? Do I want to get caught?
Do I love Will?
Henry was right about one thing. People are unknowable. I am a complete mystery to myself. But Freddy’s right, too—how can I
not
know whether I love him? Can Freddy and Henry both be right? That would wreak some serious havoc with the harmony of the universe. Speaking of which, what would Epictetus say about all this?
Nothing, probably. He’d just gather a bunch of rocks in his toga and stone me to death.
Because I should love Will. He’s such a wonderful person. So very lovable. He possesses so many wonderful, lovable, admirable qualities. There’s only one quality that he lacks. The quality of being more than one man.
So many qualities, but just one body! If only he had more bodies. He could divide up all of his qualities. Parcel them out. It would be moreegalitarian that way. A quality for every body. And maybe a few extra bodies, without any qualities. Those would probably be my favorites.
I lean my head back on the seat. He smiles down at me. “Tired?”
“A little.”
But …
marriage
? I’m
marrying
him? Am I out of my
mind
? I mean, it wouldn’t be a problem if the situation were different. Like if we were characters in that one Greek myth, and every night when the moon rises and the lamps are lit my husband turns into a different man, and at dawn turns back into Will.
Is there such a Greek myth?
Don’t think so. Should have been. Greeks might not have gone extinct.
Did Greeks go extinct? They aren’t dinosaurs. Just very indebted.
Why am I thinking about the Greeks? Why am I thinking at all?
It’s okay. It’s been a long day. I’ve still got time to sort everything out. Plenty of time. Dog’s years. Or donkey’s. Whatever.
Tomorrow will be better. I’ll be better. Tomorrow.
“Close your eyes,” Will says. “I’ll wake you when we get there.”
6
I feel his hand first . Near my knee, stroking gently. Tracing a pattern on my skin. I shiver.
I’m on my back, one arm flung over my eyes. Where are we? There’s a breeze. Scent of the ocean. A brightness in the room.
Key West. I’m home.
His hand slips under my knee, lifting it up. He parts my legs. His fingers trail up the inside of my thigh, pushing the thin silk of my slip out of the way.
“Lily,” he whispers.
I feel the heat of his body next to mine, his weight on the mattress drawing me toward him. I resist, leaning away slightly. His hand brushes
There’s a tap on my shoulder.
“Come on, Noreen,” Freddy says. “Time for your injection.”
“Go away!” I hiss.
But of course she doesn’t. Eventually I let her take my arm and lead me out the door.
“I don’t know if you’ve heard, Winifred, but there’s a special place in hell for women who don’t help other women.”
“You’re lucky I’m the one who came looking for you and not Will,” she says.
“I am lucky. I’m a lucky, lucky girl. And you’re a good friend. A great friend. The bestest ever.” I throw my arm over her shoulders.
A giant shard of concrete rears up and attacks me. I stumble. Freddy catches me.
Metaphor!
We return to the first bar. “Great, you found her,” Will says. “Let’s go.”
Will and Javier hustle us into a pink taxi. Freddy rests her head on my shoulder. Javier is up front, talking to the driver. I lean back and look at Will’s profile, flickering in and out of the light cast by the streetlamps as we drive up Duval. He’s holding my hand, absently brushing his thumb back and forth across mine.
Why did I leave, why did I go roaming when I have this, right here? And I had to pick a
married
man, of all people? Classy, as Jane would say. She should talk, though. My moms have a hell of a lot of nerve, presuming to tell me who is and who isn’t marriage material.
But … do they also have a point? What exactly am I doing? Is this me changing my mind? Is this me never having made up my mind in the first place? Do I want to call this off? Do I want to get caught?
Do I love Will?
Henry was right about one thing. People are unknowable. I am a complete mystery to myself. But Freddy’s right, too—how can I
not
know whether I love him? Can Freddy and Henry both be right? That would wreak some serious havoc with the harmony of the universe. Speaking of which, what would Epictetus say about all this?
Nothing, probably. He’d just gather a bunch of rocks in his toga and stone me to death.
Because I should love Will. He’s such a wonderful person. So very lovable. He possesses so many wonderful, lovable, admirable qualities. There’s only one quality that he lacks. The quality of being more than one man.
So many qualities, but just one body! If only he had more bodies. He could divide up all of his qualities. Parcel them out. It would be moreegalitarian that way. A quality for every body. And maybe a few extra bodies, without any qualities. Those would probably be my favorites.
I lean my head back on the seat. He smiles down at me. “Tired?”
“A little.”
But …
marriage
? I’m
marrying
him? Am I out of my
mind
? I mean, it wouldn’t be a problem if the situation were different. Like if we were characters in that one Greek myth, and every night when the moon rises and the lamps are lit my husband turns into a different man, and at dawn turns back into Will.
Is there such a Greek myth?
Don’t think so. Should have been. Greeks might not have gone extinct.
Did Greeks go extinct? They aren’t dinosaurs. Just very indebted.
Why am I thinking about the Greeks? Why am I thinking at all?
It’s okay. It’s been a long day. I’ve still got time to sort everything out. Plenty of time. Dog’s years. Or donkey’s. Whatever.
Tomorrow will be better. I’ll be better. Tomorrow.
“Close your eyes,” Will says. “I’ll wake you when we get there.”
6
I feel his hand first . Near my knee, stroking gently. Tracing a pattern on my skin. I shiver.
I’m on my back, one arm flung over my eyes. Where are we? There’s a breeze. Scent of the ocean. A brightness in the room.
Key West. I’m home.
His hand slips under my knee, lifting it up. He parts my legs. His fingers trail up the inside of my thigh, pushing the thin silk of my slip out of the way.
“Lily,” he whispers.
I feel the heat of his body next to mine, his weight on the mattress drawing me toward him. I resist, leaning away slightly. His hand brushes
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