I knew she’d rather chug a pint of swamp water than ever come home, but I wanted to make her say it. “I’m actually driving. I’m in Gainesville these days.” “Gainesville? Since when? I thought you were up in Vermont or something.” That she’d never live near Miami again was a given, but even Gainesville, a five-hour drive north, seemed too close. I assumed the entire state of Florida, for her, had a repellent radius of at least five hundred miles.
