Sabrina asked me if I had ever married.

"Not even close," I answered.

I also explained that when I was in my mid-twenties my mother was diagnosed with leukemia, and I moved in with her to help her out. During those years I came to hate my father for abandoning my mother like that—although she later convinced me get rid of the hate and try to keep some sort of relationship with him. I spent three years living with her. My mother always felt that because of her my prime dating years had gone to waste, and she always felt guilty about it. I didn't though. As hard as it was, I felt I owed her at least that much. And to be perfectly frank, I wasn't sure if any years were my "prime" dating years.

Her cancer went into remission—and had never returned—and I got the job in Boston, a job that left little time for developing a real relationship with anyone.

"So there's been no one special?"

"No. I had a few relationships that lasted a number of months, but when it's not the right person, it's not the right person. You can fool yourself only so long. How about you?"

"I was married for five years back in my early twenties. It seemed like the real thing. I thought it was a storybook marriage. After a couple of years we tried to get pregnant, but couldn't. That's when I noticed a change in Kevin. Sex lost its enjoyment and instead became a mission, a mission to have a baby. The more obsessed he got about it, the less I wanted to have a child with him—or even sex, for that matter. Finally, the doctors determined that I couldn't bear children. That sent him over the edge. Our last year of marriage was a nightmare, and when I finally took out a restraining order on him, he left. I promptly filed for divorce. We were living in a small town in Pennsylvania, near where he grew up. I moved to New York, got a job as an editorial assistant with a small publisher, and shared an apartment with two other women who were also struggling to survive. After my experience with Kevin, I vowed I'd never get married again. Like you, I date, but nothing serious has ever resulted."

"And Kevin?"

"Never heard from him again and never want to."

She didn't seem to want to say any more on the subject, so I changed it.

"Do you like life as a successful author?"

She perked up. "I love it! Writing is my passion. As I said, the fame that has greeted me over the last year or so can be a little overwhelming—even embarrassing—but I love my life. I love traveling for research, and I love writing. I also can't complain about the money that has suddenly started to enter my life over the last year, but I would do this even if I was just scraping by."