"Go home," I say. "Praise the lamb."
"How do I know it won't be the spinal cord next?"
"Hard to get to. Probably couldn't even dent it."
"I feel like I'm married to some kind of animal."
"Our animal nature is part of us and we are part of it."
So he goes back to their apartment on Charles Street and they have a festive evening with the lamb and candles. They go to bed together and in the middle of the night she bites him on the back of the leg, severing a tendon just above the knee. A real gorilla bite. I can't understand it. She's a really nice woman, and pretty, too.
"You can't bite your way through life," I say to her. She's just seen William in his semi-private room at St. Vincent's.
"The physical therapist says there'll be a slight limp," she says, "forever. How could I have done that?"
"Passion, I guess. Feeling run rampant."
"Will he ever speak to me again?"
"What'd he say at the hospital?"
"Said the food was lousy."
"That's a beginning."
"He doesn't feel for me anymore. I know it."
"He keeps coming back. However chewed upon. That's got to prove something."