" "What did I say?" "Only one word," she said, offering her first white lie. He often wanted only to drive with her in the car, both of them staring at the scenery in silence for hours. “Because I know for a fact that she was having sex with Gary Rothko during homecoming Freshman year and she let him pork her up the ass. The Red Room. The man was dangerous. “You are coming right out into life—facing it all. I love you—unendurably. Why? If she had put the query to herself, she could not have answered it. Her anger parlayed with her confusion, as she realized that the new marriage was about as optional as the first one and her hunger was growing inside her like a weed. The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance.
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