She took a shower after a particularly harsh volleyball debacle only to find that her locker had been picked and her outfit of the day, gray sweatpants and a shapeless pink sweater, were gone. But she no longer obsessed over heresy, no longer did she feel cursed by God. The streets were deserted as they drove past familiar sites. She could not risk going in the door, lest she run into Larry or Cathy drinking a nocturnal glass of milk or Mike raiding the refrigerator for snacks. ‘My wife would say she is English a little. “But I wish,” she said, “I had some idea what I was really up to.
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