Patrick and I amused ourselves with one of our games. We’d give each other a choice of two literary characters, and we had to choose which one we’d marry. We played the game for hours, often howling with laughter when the choices were less than pleasing. “Darcy or Gatsby,” said Patrick. “Oh, come on. Can’t you do any better than that?” I scoffed. “That’s obvious. Darcy.” “I just don’t see why women love him so much. He’s so uptight. Gatsby’s got style.” “He’s not uptight. He’s shy!” I insisted.
