“Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. They were actually pissed at me that I quote broke up with you unquote. She slid the dress off, naked underneath. The brain tires of resistance, and when it meets again and again, incoherently active, the same phrases, the same ideas that it has already slain, exposed and dissected and buried, it becomes less and less energetic to repeat the operation. “For me there is no second turn. ” “Married?” said Ann Veronica. ” Lucy replied. She leaped to a world of shabby knowledge, of furtive base realizations.
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