From little hints they dropped and I ignored, I think Tig and Diana might have been interested in sleeping naked in the same bed, with me included. A bristly feeling inside at the idea. I did not know how to reconcile my love for Tig, the shimmering regard and gratitude I held for her, with the frank slime of want. I feared these two women could unearth something ugly in me. As their friend I was my better self: dry and laughing, spiky but kind, trying to peel the world like an orange, eat it by the segment. I wanted to keep it that way.
