“I’m being reasonably unhappy, so I won’t have to be ridiculous when Laura comes back next week.”

“How could I have thought our wonderful friends would let me take care of my own business?”

Cypress was standing by the window, looking at the cars, becoming steely and attempting to ignore everything Idrina was saying:

“Why are ya gonna be unhappy, Cypress? I do love you. I really love you and I’m not abandoning you to some lonesome and miserable life. I’ll be in your life, I just won’t be there all the time . . . but I’ll be there whenever you need me as a friend, or lover. So don’t draw away. Don’t leave.”

“Oh yeah. You’re gonna be there all right, when Laura goes out of town.”

“You knew she was comin’ back. I always let you know that.”

“Yeah. Well. She’s comin’ back and you can have her. But not me, I can’t do it. I can’t do it. Why didn’t you leave me alone . . .”

Idrina moved closer to Cypress and caressed her face. “You didn’t want to be left alone. I didn’t want to leave you alone, and you love someone now, don’t you. You didn’t hold back and make fun and games. You didn’t ignore your spirit and be someone you aren’t ’cause you didn’t have the faith to be yourself. Ahhhh, Cypress. Can’t you see I’ve been doin’ this ‘us’ with you. With you, not to you.”

“Then that makes me one big damn jackass, doesn’t it. Helpin’ somebody hurt my feelings. That’s so intelligent and self-sufficient, I oughtta get a award for the Most Asinine Lover of New York City. The one who gave and lost the most in this decade.”

Cypress swung around the room, flinging her arms and kicking. All her movements were correct; sharp, and unexpected. Her anger pushed through her space. Idrina moved to another room, satisfied Cypress would let her legs scream out her disappointment.

Cypress fell down in the midst of furious chené turns. At first she wanted to jump up immediately and start again. A mad dance. A dance of expiation. A dance to exorcise Idrina and love and anything but movement. She wanted to get up and shout with her bosom and fingers. Holler with her arms: “I am hurt. I am hurt. I am hurt. HUUUURRRRRTTTT.” But she didn’t move; she was rigid like a forsaken oak. Then she collapsed, refusing to dance—dance was too much joy to bear. She would not dance. She somehow got her things and left Idrina’s in a fearsome silence. Cypress had nothing to say. No dance left.

Chapter 13

My Darling Daughter,