And No One Drank Just One Shot

He Was Afraid That The Secrets She'd Kept Would Always Be Here, Inside Him, An Ugly Malignant Thing Lodged Near Enough To His Heart To Upset Its Rhythm, And Though It Could Be Removed, Cut Out, There Would Always Be Scars; Bits And Pieces Of It Would Remain In His Blood, Making It Wrong Somehow, So That If He Accidentally Sliced His Skin Open, His Blood Would--for One Heartbeat--flow As Black As India Ink Before It Remembered That It Should Be Red.

As Mothers And Daughters, We Are Connected With One Another. My Mother Is The Bones Of My Spine, Keeping Me Straight And True. She Is My Blood, Making Sure It Runs Rich And Strong. She Is The Beating Of My Heart. I Cannot Now Imagine A Life Without Her.

If She Wasn't Careful, She'd Slide Without A Ripple Into The Gently Flowing Stream Of Her Old Life, Pulled Back Under The Current Without A Wimper Of Protest. Another Housewife Lost In The Flow.

And Before You Barrel Through Some Idiotic Cosmo Girl List Of How-well-do-you-know-your-man Questions, Let Me Say That I Don't Know Squat About Him Except That He Kisses Like A God And Screws Like A Devil.

Their Friendship Was More Important Than Any Relationship. Guys Would Come And Go; Girlfriends Were Forever.