“She wants me to cut through all the sweetness and light in my head,” I said, “so I can see the truth.” “Which is?” Tommy asked, not turning around. “That nothing is what it seems to be.”

“And you know what? You can’t make me responsible for you and the choices you make.” I turned around and started walking toward the house.”

“I walked Sam up to his door and gave him a huge hug. He looked me over in the porch light and leaned over—just a little. He whispered, “You know, I’m glad you wore this costume tonight. Now I know, when you’re fifty three, you’re still gonna be lookin’ good.” So I hit him. Which really wasn’t what I was wanting to do.”

“You coming?” he asked her, leaning in through the door. And then he finally really looked at me. He came to a complete halt—not just his body, but his energy. His eyebrows went right up. “Oh,” he said. I sort of flicked my hem at him, assuming what I fondly considered an enigmatic look. “This okay?” I asked. “Oh,” he said again, stepping inside the house. The screen door hit him when it closed. “Yeah. Yeah, that works.” It kind of looked like he was beginning to sweat.”

“...it depends on whose reality you're using for rules. You just have to remember that, and then you can see that nothing should be taken absolutely seriously. Personally, I always like to use my own reality as a standard.”

“I’m always buried in something. But I love you. I try to listen to what’s going on. If you need me, just—bring in a bucket of water, or something. Well, not water around the computers. Maybe a cattle prod. No. Not around the computers . . ..” “Ice,” I said. “Down the back.”

“I caught a sob before it quite broke, surprised at how quickly it had cut me.”