“Oh, Lucy, don’t do this. You really care for Stuart. He’s a good friend. Don’t turn it into this.” But now she was really crying, and I wanted her to settle down for fear she’d break something open. “I’m so tired of being lonely,” she said. I realized that night that there was nothing in the body I was afraid of. There was no wound I couldn’t clean and dress, nothing that made me feel squeamish or ashamed. Even the pain didn’t make me turn away.
