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Show Woodworth/213 of plastic, and her gasps will bring less air. What she needs to tell her, to unburden herself, is that she loves them all. But right now, her mother might not understand. Ned comes back, carrying two drinks, and Megan follows him, a handful of cookies in one hand, milk in the other. "Ah. You found the cookies," her mother says. Her voice is soft, reaching. "Mmmm." Megan sighs, wiping a crumb from her mouth with the back of her hand. "I promised myself that I wasn't going to pig out while I was home, and the first thing I do is eat a dozen chocolate chip cookies." "I made them just for you," Ruth says. "As a kind of welcome home." She knows they're for her, these attacks from her mother- See? I like Megan better, she is saying. Holding it up, flaunting it. Megan is chattering again, perched on the edge of the couch, stopping for milk, or to stuff a cookie into her mouth. Her noises are background noises to Marty. The incessant, cheerful clatter of birds at sunset. The conversation she hears is between her mother and herself. Two women, they lean their heads together like cronies, and talk about men and sex, and laugh and exclaim at each other's experiences. ttejMaaJMM»she jmmm to San Francisco, %mWmm\ tell Gary about ±wm and she owes it to him. He never called to say where he was staying, but he will be at the airport, or she will find him. "You should have been there," f\egan says to her mother. "I mean, it was just incredible. It was at the Four Seasons, have you ever been there?" 'W^ten we were younge^. A long time ago. Your father |