“Your moustache,” I continue. “It’s kind of like me wanting to be a writer. It’s part of me. I don’t know who I’d be if I didn’t want to be a writer.”

“Okay, let’s put it this way. I would like to sleep with you. But it’s alright if I don’t sleep with you. What I’m saying is I’d like to be as fair as possible. I don’t want to force anything on anybody, any more than I’d want anything forced on me. It’s enough that I feel your presence or see your commas swirling around me.”

“There’s nothing I need or want to know from the writers I admire that isn’t in their books. It’s better to read a good writer than meet one.”

“Well, I know better what I don’t want. I don’t want somebody who’s always nagging me to be something I’m not. And I don’t want somebody who thinks she knows what’s best for me and who maneuvers around trying to get me to do things her way.” Kate frowned. “Nobody wants anyone like that. It’s like saying, ‘I don’t want someone who’ll poke me in the eye with a sharp stick.’ Forget what you don’t want. What do you want?”

“Tell me about it. It’s so hard to deal with a single parent. They take out all their anxiety on you. It’s like,she’s so angry all the time. And I didn’t even do anything!”“That’s so wrong.”“Yeah.”“Where’s your dad?”“I don’t know. My mom had me when she was still in high school, so . . .”“You don’t see him at all?”“No, and I don’t want to. I have no interest in maintaining a relationship with someone who didn’t loveme enough to stick around.”

“Listen to me. I’m shy. I’m not stupid. I can’t meet people’s eyes. I don’t know if you understand what that’s like. There’s a whole world going on around me, I’m aware of that. It’s not because I don’t want to look at you, Lucinda. It’s that I don’t want to be seen.”