“We’re past the age of caring what anyone thinks,” Gladys says. “I want that,” I say. “I want to bottle that and make it mine.” “Sorry, dear,” says Gladys. “I think it’s a thing that takes time, gray hair, wrinkles, heartbreaks, and all kinds of moments when you cared too much. Then one day you realize . . . it never got you anywhere you wanted to go. The people who only want you when you bend and twist to suit them don’t stay anyway, and the ones who want you as you are settle in, and so do you.”
