"It seemed very sad to see you going off in your new shoes alone." - Zelda Fitzgerald, in a letter to her husband, February 1932
For making the slow going less slow, the author wishes to thank the Corporation of Yaddo, the University of Wisconsin Graduate School, the Wisconsin Arts Board, the National Endowment for the Arts, and the Rockefeller Foundation.
For the first time in her life, Mary was seeing two boys at once. It involved extra laundry, an answering machine, and dark solo trips in taxicabs, which, in Cleveland, had to be summoned by phone, but she recommended it in postcards to friends.
There was only this world, this looted, ventriloquized earth. If one were to look for a place to die, mightn't it be here?--like some old lesson of knowing your kind and returning. She was afraid, and the afraid, she realized, sought opportunities for bravery in love. She tucked the flower in her blouse. Life or death. Something or nothing. _You want something or nothing?_ She stepped toward him with a heart she'd someday tear the terror from. Here. But not now.