Absolution

by Alice McDermott

Righteous indignation was exhausting to maintain, even as a silent partner.

They were superheroes, movie stars. And were always greeted as such. We felt no envy, we do-good American ladies. We liked men better than women as well.

I thought, as I slept again, that my sincere affection for these women was surely purer, less condescending, less self-satisfied, less colonial, certainly, than that of the other female dependents here in Saigon. Another kind of American hubris, I suppose.

An understanding, perhaps, of what a paltry, personal matter it is to lose your life.