Over an hour later, I had written:You were always the one who offered first.Am I the one who only receives?That in me which I couldn't do, you do.That...which I couldn't have, you give.I give you that you are more than loved, but as my secret otherness, the You-ness I can't be but am, you are cherished, dearly.Before I could finish, I heard a muffled knock at the front door. Thieves? The landlord? Quickly I fetched my pants from a hanger in the bathroom and stood listening at the front door as I. His mother and the priest always said suicides wentto hell.A typical day for Lindsay was rising fashionably late at 10am and wasgiven a facial and massage by the currant maid. A delightful breakfastin the morning and it was always delicious. After dressingappropriately to her elevated social position she would get gracefullyinto her Bentley and either drive to the spa and shopping or shoppingand the spa. A lunch at a great Boston restaurant. Bridge at thecountry club with her almost equals and. More

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