“Here, baby. Here’s a towel.” She reached back, unable to face the man, and grasped the towel he handed her. Of course, it was a dish towel and not much good.”

“We forgot to get sheets," Danny said."And dish-towels... I don't own a single dish-towel!" Kevin added his own problems."And bathroom stuff.""Not even paper towels! God – how could I forget paper towels!""I'll start a list... uh... Got anything I can write on?""No. Make that first on the list.""Got anything I can write with?""Maybe we'd better just go, Danny... before it gets worse.”

“Someone in our family had taken to wiping his or her ass on the bath towels. What made this exceptionally disturbing was that all our towels were fudge-colored. You’d be drying your hair when, too late, you noticed an unmistakable odor on your hands, head, and face.”

“She used the bathroom, running the tap noisily and disturbing the towels. She knew immediately that her mother had bought these towels — cream, a ridiculous color for towels — and monogrammed — also ridiculous, my mother thought. But then, just as quickly, she laughed at herself. She was beginning to wonder how useful her scorched-earth policy had been to her all these years. Her mother was loving if she was drunk, solid if she was vain. When was it all right to let go not only of the dead but of the living—to learn to accept?”

“My mom giggled and whacked Dick with a dish towel. I would have whacked him harder with the cutting board, but that was just my preference.”

“... Now what brings you down here? Want to work out?" "No. I wondered if you wanted to go for a swim. Mr. Kadam has ordered us to relax today."He grabbed a towel and scrubbed his face and head. "A swim, huh? It might cool me off." He peeked from around his towel. "Unless you're planning to wear a bikini.”