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"
No
.
"
"
I
slept
with
my
husband
,
and
I
feel
like
he
’
s
been
unfaithful
to
me
.
"
A
choked
laugh
.
She
smeared
angrily
at
her
eyes
.
"
I
feel
like
I
’
ve
been
unfaithful
.
To
something
.
You
know
,
when
they
put
me
away
I
left
a
body
and
a
family
behind
.
Now
I
don
’
t
have
either
.
"
She
looked
down
at
herself
again
.
She
lifted
her
hands
and
turned
them
,
fingers
spread
.
"
I
don
’
t
know
what
I
feel
,
"
she
said
.
"
I
don
’
t
know
what
to
feel
.
"
There
was
a
lot
I
could
have
said
.
A
lot
that
has
been
said
,
written
,
researched
and
disputed
on
the
subject
.
Trite
little
magazine
-
length
summings
-
up
of
the
problems
inherent
in
re
-
sleeving
—
How
to
make
your
partner
love
you
again
,
in
any
body
—
trite
,
interminable
psychological
tracts
—
Some
observations
of
secondary
trauma
in
civil
re
-
sleeving
—
even
the
sanctified
manuals
of
the
fucking
Envoy
Corps
itself
had
something
trite
to
say
on
the
matter
.
Quotes
,
informed
opinion
,
the
ravings
of
the
religious
and
the
lunatic
fringe
.
I
could
have
thrown
it
all
at
her
.
I
could
have
told
her
that
what
she
was
going
through
was
quite
normal
for
an
unconditioned
human
.
I
could
have
told
her
that
it
would
pass
with
time
That
there
were
psychodynamic
disciplines
for
dealing
with
it
.
That
millions
of
other
people
survived
it
.
I
could
even
have
told
her
that
whichever
God
she
owed
nominal
allegiance
to
was
watching
over
her
.
I
could
have
lied
,
I
could
have
reasoned
.
It
all
would
have
meant
about
the
same
,
because
the
reality
was
pain
,
and
right
now
there
was
nothing
anyone
could
do
to
take
it
away
.
I
said
nothing
.
The
dawn
gained
on
us
,
light
strengthening
on
the
closed
-
up
frontages
behind
us
.
I
glanced
at
the
windows
of
Elliott
’
s
Data
Linkage
.
"
Victor
?
"
I
asked
.
"
Sleeping
.
"
She
wiped
an
arm
across
her
face
and
snorted
her
tears
back
under
control
like
badly
cut
amphetamine
.
"
You
say
this
is
going
to
hurt
Bancroft
?
"
