They used to marry us off at seventeen, rush us into things before we had time to protest. That is why I ask you. Here he was hotly pursued. They stopped talking, except to each other. Cathy had not even noticed that she herself was wet and trailing water everywhere. She was young and bright, little to no make-up except for lip-gloss, long, straight, glossy reddish blonde hair slightly past her shoulders. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. They don’t count, and I don’t care. I felt suddenly I understood you—as an intelligent person.
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