quips and nasty remarks. "You are bright," she said,
sitting to put on her shoes.
I glanced to her right and saw a suitcase. 'Mat
are you doing?"
"What am I doing? I'm getting a life, getting
away from this insane asylum." "How can you leave?"
I asked, more curious than happy about it.
"Watch me and you'll get the idea. Maybe
someday you'll wake up, realize you're becoming
weirder and weirder, and you'll leave yourself,
although I have big doubts. After all, how can you
stop reading children's books and talking to
shadows?"
She smiled at the expression on my face. "Oh,
you didn't know I overheard you whispering out there
sometimes, did you? Or
that I put my ear to your door
and heard you talking to no one. You're crazy, aren't
you? Do you see dead people?" she asked. laughing.
"I know your mother thinks she does. Everyone
knows about that.
"Which," she added, running a brush through
her hair, "makes me wonder what the hell my father
was thinking when he asked her to marry him." "You just can't run away. You have a big
problem to solve."
"Big problem?"
"We heard. We couldn't help but hear the way
you were screaming at your father."
"Oh, so you're worried about me. Noble man?
Well, don't," she snapped, and tossed her brush onto