““What?” “If everything and everybody is perfect, why do you drink?” A pause and then,“Everything is perfect in itself.” “Whether you drink or not.” “Right.” “But more perfect for you when you drink.” Another pause. “We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.” “Maybe that’s it.” “What is?” “That it’s more perfect.” “But is it?” “Louise, I don’t know what you want me to say.” “What you feel. The truth.” “I’m not escaping, I don’t feel that. I’m not looking for perfection.” “Are you lo...oking for anything?” “Sure.” “What?” “Whatever’s there.” “You mean, whatever you see.” “Right.” “I’m just trying to understand.” “I know.” “You don’t make it easy.” “I know.” “That’s okay. Nobody’s perfect.” A few days later, Saturday afternoon, I fall asleep on the chesterfield and have a dream about Tim Todd. We’re sitting under a weeping willow. There are things he wants to show me but he’s hesitating, afraid I’ll be dismissive.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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