Her head ached with a hollow pain. So am I. Most of them didn’t, anyhow. Not daring, however, to listen to it, he ran on. “The white unaggressive woman who corrects and nurses and serves, and is worshipped and betrayed—the martyr-queen of men, the white mother. When he returned from pissing, he sat down with her. She washed her face twice after making smudgy eyeshadow and lipstick errors. 32 The curtains and tapestries had appeared over the windows before Marina had died, growing moldy from the dampness and the oils of lavender, clove, and clary sage soaking them. They had scrubbed and dusted, torn down and hung up until noon. I snatched it up, pointed it blindly at him, and fired. I do not say guest because that suggests friendship; and I am no friend of this Wastrel.
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