“Come on, Father. Stop me. Tell me to behave, to go to hell, something, anything.”

“What the hell do you want from me?” “What are you trying to do to me?”“Stop! Just stop!” he spits.“Why? What else needs to be said? I think you’ve told me enough lies for a lifetime.”“No more lies,” he says angrily. “I don’t even want to talk to you anymore. I just want to hear you tell me that you don’t feel anything for me. That you want me to leave you alone and never come back. Then I’ll go. If that’s what you really want, I’ll go.”“Don’t. Please don’t say it.”“Why?”“Because I don’t want you to. I need you to come back to me. Not to help me. Or to help my father. I’m done with that. I don’t want your help. It all boils down to you. I just want you.”“I just want you.”“Okay.”

“I wanted to go home and if Hell rose up to stop me, it would make me desire it more.”

“Derek was telling her something about a hand in a box. It was a dead hand. Why the hell did he have to bring it to me right this second? Was it going anywhere?”

“Now tell me something. What’s your word for husband?” “Hellren, I suppose. The short version is just hell.” She laughed softly. “Go figure.”

“I’m just staring at him, mouth half-open. As soon as I realize it, I find something to say, anything. “Who the hell are you?”“March,” he tells me.“That a name or an order?”