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As his grandfather used to say: hard things are hard.
She doesn’t need someone to worship her. She needs someone to love her, clothe her, feed her, teach her right from wrong, someone to set limits and provide opportunities, someone to believe in her and be her champion.
One thing Irene has learned in her fifty-seven years is that no matter how hideous something seems at first, with the passing of time comes habituation and then acceptance.
What Irene is living through now is abhorrent. But the world is filled with deceptions and betrayals—nearly every life has one—and yet the sun still rises and sets, the world continues on.
She supposes this goes to show that one can get used to anything.
It’s newly astonishing to Irene that as much as we know about the world, we still can’t see into another person’s mind or heart.
Secrets become lies, and lies end up destroying you and everyone you care about.”
Thank God for dogs, she thinks. No matter how tense a situation humans find themselves in—and the situation in the kitchen
of the Invisible Man’s villa, with his decidedly visible wife and his sons, Baker and Cash, is an eleven out of ten on the stress scale—a dog lightens the mood.
