She shook her head, almost breaking a smile. She went to her bedroom, but she did not go to bed. But to confess about Gerald— no, a thousand times. It was in this state that Mark McCloskey caught her. She gathered her black purse, a pointless thing made of cardboard covered in sateen and bejeweled with an assortment of rhinestones. He just wants to get laid. None of the things they said and did were altogether new to Ann Veronica, but now she got them massed and alive, instead of by glimpses or in books—alive and articulate and insistent. Michelle helped her mother clear the table and Lucy thanked her for the meal. Once he chuckled aloud. Not I.
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