“Oh, yeah,' she said. 'He likes your brain, J.D., but he ain't attracted to you, which is a cryin' shame, if you don't mind me sayin' so.'No. How could I mind the truth? It was a cryin' shame, and my tears almost dripped right into my stuffing.”

“I read your poem," I croaked. "'Fall.'"Then something I never thought would happen, happened: Marcus Flutie was shocked by something I said."You did?" he said. "I thought you lost it!""Well someone found it for me. Where do you get off saying," I lowered my voice, "we'll be naked without shame in paradise?"He didn't open his mouth."I know what that means, you know. Who do you think I am?"He didn't open his mouth."We are never going to be naked without shame in paradise."He didn't open his mouth."We're NEVER going to have sex," I whispered, clearly over-stating my case.He didn't open his mouth. The mouth that used to bite mine."And I'm just going to forget about that biting thing from the other night," I said.He looked at me right in the eyes. If he'd focused hard enough on my pupils, he could've seen his own reflection, his own face smirking at me."You couldn't forget if you tried," he said, before walking away.He's right. And I don't know if I hate him or love him for that.”

“And yet I know I am too young, that we're too young, for me to live my life only as it relates to you. If you had asked me to marry you the night you first told me about your acceptance, I would have embraced Princeton as part of a larger plan that involved me. I probably would have reacted differently.I might even had said yes.Alas, you didn't ask me then. You made plans for your future without me in mind, And that's okay. But how can you now ask me to arrange my life around you?”

“What are your thoughts?''My thoughts?' I replied, before I even realized what I was saying. 'My thoughts created my world.'Mac sat up in his seat. He scrunched his curls with his hands, perplexed. 'Who said that?'I told him the truth. 'Oh, just someone I used to know,' I said, stroking the naked skin on my middle finger.”

“Prayers are answered in one of four ways,” she said. “Yes. No. I havesomething else in mind. And . . .”She paused long enough for my impatience to show. “And what’s thefourth answer?”“Wait,” she said.”

“I love when I reach Marcus on the phone and as he says hello, I can hear the music he's listening to in the background. That music is the sound of him without me. How he surrounds himself when I'm not there, which is almost all the time.”

“My mother, of course, had a different opinion. 'They're driving me crazy!' she said, swatting at them with her beige Coach handbag. 'How can you tell?' my dad asked. 'Between your menopause craziness and your turning fifty craziness and everything else?''Forty-eight!' my mom cried. Dad groaned. 'Have you forgotten who you're lying to?”