But keeping it in the bathroom allowed you to love it. Keeping it in there was a sign that you loved it.” “Right.” “Then, on our last night there, we forgot to close the bathroom door—we were so drunk—and in the morning you woke up and it was beside your leg, and without even thinking, you smashed it under your hand.” “I remember,” I said, uneasy. “Well, that’s like you buying the same dress as me. I’m doing a lot, what with letting you tape me, but—boundaries, Sheila. Barriers. We need them. They let you love someone. Otherwise you might kill them.”
