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“Perhaps my husband would be interested in what goes on here!”“Mrs. Vaughn,” one of them stammered, “we are on our lunch break.”“At 1:30...in the afternoon? I hardly think so.” I step up to them. One of them is standing between me and the TV, blocking my view of the action on the screen but the sounds of moaning and fucking are still echoing off the walls of the small room. I look him in the eyes and make a brushing motion with my hand, gesturing him away so I can see, too. A middle-aged woman. All my thoughts, when I separated them from what Ginny had said and was saying, and from what CO2 was trying to have me believe, told me that Ginny hadn't really loved me before. Connie had told me that Ginny had always been complaining about me before the voices returned to me. Even Kevin was trying to tell me that Ginny had been at least an equal partner as far as sharing responsibility for what had taken place that night in his car.I remembered things she'd said to me on the phone the first. More

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