She felt her chest trying to float up, but the blessed undertow, the dreaded reason why she was warned to never bathe in the ocean, sucked her feet down, putting the decision where it belonged, into the hands of God. She tried to imagine herself “getting something,” to project herself as sitting down at a desk and writing, or as returning after her work to some pleasantly equipped and free and independent flat. What had actually beaten him was not to have known if someone had picked up his trail. “Be careful,” Lucy cautioned Michelle as she sidestepped a two by four studded with upturned nails. And then suddenly—a relief. “How’d you know it was me?” He looked conspiratorially into the room for hidden informants. Pull yourself together now. It seemed to her that her father was in some inexplicable way meaner-looking than she had supposed, and yet also, as unaccountably, appealing. It could only mean one thing—that her foster daughter was both a whore and a murderer! When Sheila confronted her about it, it was five in the morning. “Well, no,” she answered.
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