“No," I shout, because my mother doesn't know what I like anymore. "I don't eat things that bleed. Just cheese with lettuce or tomato and mayo. No dead fish or animals, please.""You see what I have to put up with?" my mother says.”

“Tacos.""Tacos?" I echoed.This seemed to amuse him. "Tomatoes, lettuce, cheese.""I know what a taco is!”

“And I know it doesn't matter what I say now, because I fucked things up... just like I always do.""Trav?""Yeah?""Don't drive drunk on your bike anymore, okay?”

“I took three steps back; he nudged the door closed with his foot. “You like Mexican?” he asked.“I—” I’d like to know what you’re doing inside my house!“Tacos?”“Tacos?” I echoed.This seemed to amuse him. “Tomatoes, lettuce, cheese.”“I know what a taco is!”

“You see, I never knew what I wanted to be -- I still don;t know. All I knew was that I was supposed to get married and have babies just like my mother did and my sisters did. I wanted to do that. I met your father and I was his wife, that is who I was. Then I had my children. And then I was a mother. That's who I was. A wife and a mother but I don't know if I was or if I am of any real value. You and the boys are all grown up, so what I am now?”

“I never touch sugar, cheese, bread... I only like what I'm allowed to like. I'm beyond temptation. There is no weakness. When I see tons of food in the studio, for us and for everybody, for me it's as if this stuff was made out of plastic. The idea doesn't even enter my mind that a human being could put that into their mouth. I'm like the animals in the forest. They don't touch what they cannot eat.”