“Cut it.”

“I paid forty dollars for that.”

“I’ll give you a hundred to cut it off of me.”

“Fine. Where are your scissors?”

“No scissors. You’ll never get them underneath this and if you move wrong or I have a gas pain, you’ll stab me. Get the utility knife from the kitchen drawer.”

“You want me to use a razor?”

“I want you to use a razor very, very carefully. Just cut at it from the outside until it’s weak enough to break.”

Halcyon grabbed the utility knife from the kitchen and walked back into the bedroom, wearing an apprehensive look. Snooze poked his head around the door, then immediately turned and fled. Marina couldn’t blame him.

“Okay,” Halcyon said. “Here goes.”

Marina heard the fabric tear as the razor sliced through it and with every cut, she felt her internal organs sigh with relief. Finally, only a narrow strip remained and Halcyon hesitated.

“It’s so small,” she said. “I don’t want to cut you but I can’t pull it out any.”

“Just cut the outside folds. It has to rip sooner or later.”

“Okay. Here goes. Don’t move.”

Marina sucked in, trying to give Halcyon more space to work, and concentrated on tightening her core so she could be absolutely still. She was moderately successful. She heard the tiny rip of fabric once, then again, then a final cut and the rest of it tore apart and shot out the door and into the living room.

Snooze yelped and she heard him scramble.

Marina ran out of the bedroom and spotted the old hound standing at the back door, the hair band draped across his neck. He looked both confused and offended. She couldn’t blame him.

She walked over and grabbed the wrecked garment, then dug a hundred bucks out of her wallet and took them both back to Halcyon, who was sitting on the bed, laughing so hard so she was crying.

“Take both,” Marina said, and handed her sister the hair band and the money. “I don’t want to ever see that thing again. My insides haven’t hurt this bad since we ate burritos at that truck stop last month.”

Halcyon shoved the scrap of fabric into her tote bag. “Keep the money. I owe you a massage or spa day or maybe a bottle of painkillers.”

“How the heck did you wear that and breathe? Walk? Or did you just put it on for show and stand in one place until the guy of the week helped you out of it?”

“Oh, I never let them see the hardware under the dress. I take it off in the bathroom first.”

“You managed to get this off alone? In a small room?”

“Yes, but that was about six months ago. I’d had the flu the week before so I think I was lighter then. And there was the whole water pill thing.”

Marina narrowed her eyes at her sister. “Didn’t you ‘fall’ in the bathroom six months ago and sprain your wrist?”