Isola

by Allegra Goodman

I protested, “You never take my side.” “I am always at your side,” she said. “That’s different.”

That means he will not separate us.” I asked, “Why would he want to?” She sighed. “Why do men like him do anything? Because they can.”

He had endangered and delighted me so that I could no longer choose when to consider or ignore him. He who had admired me from a distance now seized my imagination. His sound was silver. His eyes were fixed on me.

“It was my fault,” he said, and by this, he meant he was a man.