One or two landladies refused her with an air of conscious virtue that she found hard to explain. How are you?” “I’m fine,” she said, unaware of all events except for the voice on the other line. He accepted this confession conditionally: that no young man had kissed her. It was something you were supposed to return, so she raced through all the television shows that she had watched over the years. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. “You promised faithfully to be there,” he said slowly. You guys don’t fool around, that was one big Thanksgiving dinner. The tears were welling over now, but her voice was steady. We always go out to dinner on holidays.
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