“I walked in on these dykes in bed,” she said, then shivered dramatically before continuing. “Guess they didn’t hear me knocking.” A beat later, she added, “It was sickening.” I froze, eyes fixed on the air above the lake. Why had she told me this story? Because Amanda and I were so close? The chemistry between us seemed palpable (to me), so maybe she had sensed something. Then again, I had thought my yearning for my mom’s love was unmistakable, yet she’d never seemed to pick up on that. I didn’t respond, and after a minute she stood and said, “I just don’t know about you, Anne Marie.” I
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