“Will they worry about you getting caught in a storm?” She asked him as she viewed black clouds floating in different directions. “There was a keg, hash, LSD, pot, you know, the usual. And will you look! His name neatly cut out from each title page. ” She was frightened—his anger always did frighten her—and in her resolve to conceal her fright she carried a queen-like dignity to what she felt even at the time was a preposterous pitch. With the extra seventy-five pounds she had put after birthing her final son, Steven, her knees weren’t in good shape to be running up and down stairs all day. And if one were to love some one very much, it’s just so that one would be blindest, just when one wanted most to see.
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