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“I mean, that’s like saying you want me to show you my liver. We both know it’s in there, but there’s no convenient way to make it visible.�
Never told her how she’d seen a million men like him, Mama’s man-friends and her own diner customers, men who sized up women as if looking at a car they might buy and run into the ground, a thing to be entered and exited at a whim, allowed or denied proper maintenance depending on the time and resources required, trotted out or hidden, crashed to smithereens and called an accident or an act of God and left behind to rust.
She is, she can admit to herself, a bit of a bitch, but then again, a bitch is just a woman who doesn’t do what you want and then refuses to feel bad about it.
