“So what else can I tell you?" I asked. "I mean, to get you to reveal Lily to me."
She triangled her fingers under her chin. "Let's see. Are you a bed wetter?"
"Am I a...?"
"Bed wetter. I am asking if you are a bed wetter."
I knew she was trying to get me to blink. But I wouldn't.
"No, ma'am. I leave my beds dry."
"Not even a little drip every now and then?"
"I'm trying hard to see how this is germane."
"I'm gauging your honesty. What is the last periodical you read methodically?"
"Vogue. Although, in the interest of full disclosure, that's mostly because I was in my mother's bathroom, enduring a rather long bowel movement. You know, the kind that requires Lamaze."
"What adjective do you feel the most longing for?"
That was easy. "I will admit I have a soft spot for fanciful."
"Let's say I have a hundred million dollars and offer it to you. The only condition is that if you take it, a man in China will fall off his bicycle and die. What do you do?"
"I don't understand why it matters whether he's in China or not. And of course I wouldn't take the money."
The old woman nodded.
"Do you think Abraham Lincoln was a homosexual?"
"All I can say for sure is that he never made a pass at me."
"Are you a museumgoer?"
"Is the pope a churchgoer?"
"When you see a flower painted by Georgia O'Keefe, what comes to mind?"
"That's just a transparent ploy to get me to say the word vagina, isn't it? There. I said it. Vagina.”