If I’d stayed in Milwaukee, eked together odd uninsured jobs, worked as a barista, stayed scooping at Leon’s, what might have happened over the years? I understood then, really only then, Marina’s choice, the choice that had rankled. To try for things but stay, not move right away. Stay with the job and the money and the health insurance that would keep you from the emptied bank account and ending up at St. Casimir or on the street. Love of most kinds could not feed you, could not house you, could not protect you from permanent bone loss that would eventually cause your very teeth to fall out
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