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475 pages, Kindle Edition
First published May 15, 2018
“You've no idea what you've cost me. Not the faintest trace of an understanding.”
"You've no idea what you've cost me. Not the faintest trace of an understanding."
Daoud sighed. "You really think that he is still alive?"
"I know that I need to see for myself," said Aristide, staring at the white blots of cold cream on the carpet between his shoes. "Or I will live the rest of my life like a man with a toothache he cannot leave alone, and I will poke at it until it grows into an abscess, bursts, and kills me."
"She didn't look forward to peeling back her layers of deception for him. It would be rather more like flaying than it would be a burlesque."
Everything was clearer now, the edges and subtleties defined; as if cataracts had been cut from his eyes. He’d rendered himself blind through force of will, and hadn’t realized how the charade exhausted him until he began to see again.
She knew, from his pause, from his bitterness. “I ain’t. You wanted to get out with him, didn’t you?”
When he spoke, every last ounce of pride was gone from his voice. No angry northern burr, but no Central City, either. “I tried,” he said, and the words were empty and aching.
There was something in her bearing, on the verge of departure, that had been absent from it thus far. A lift to her spine, an angle to her shot-away chin. In profile, she looked a little like the airplane: small and scrappy, nose pointed to the sky. Like she might take off and defy all expectations of physics, logic, common sense.