I closed my eyes. I thought about walking home, how the cool night air would feel on my hot face. I’d leave the lights off, go right to the kitchen, and pull a pint of ice cream out of the freezer and a bag of pretzels out of the breadbox, and I’d sit in the dark, eating. I’d let the creamy sweetness and crunchy saltiness fill me, pushing down the pain and shame, stuffing me so full that there wouldn’t be room for anything else; not anger, not embarrassment, not anything. Ben and Jerry, the two men who have never let me down, I thought.
