Commonwealth

by Ann Patchett

Bonnie had married a priest and was capable of experiencing guilt about all sorts of things over which she had no control.

Cal could tell that for a split second she hadn’t known whose side Bert would be on, and she had seen herself riding all the way to Lake Anna in the backseat with Albie, and she had died.

But then again it wasn’t about what either man had seen in Caroline or Franny. It was about what each had seen in himself.

The nuns had led her to believe that God gave preference to people who did things the hard way.

His daughter from the first marriage always needed money because she needed so much more than money but money was the easiest way for her to express those needs,

The simple truth was that Franny couldn’t stand to be hated.

That’s the way cops work: straight from thought to battering ram. She could feel the sweat breaking out over her scalp.

Her sense of irritation with herself was so ridiculously disproportionate to the event

She had chewed a soft crater on the inside of her left cheek, and was picking at the cuticles of her thumbs until they bled.

One breath? She couldn’t manage that? Maybe a single inhalation that wasn’t burdened by thought? She tried. There. Okay. Her back hurt.