“I’m sorry your husband died.” “I’m sorry yours did.” “No, he just left me.” Donna shakes her head. “The first one. Dukie?” “Oh, right.” Mary Pat nods. “That was a long time ago.” “Still gotta hurt.” “He hit me a lot.” “Oh. What about the second one?” “Never. He was a gent.” “But he left you.” “Yup.” “Why?” It takes Mary Pat so long to speak that by the time she finally does, Donna’s finished her cigarette and the light in the room has changed. “I embarrassed him.” “How?” “I dunno.” “Your hair?” I have bad hair? “Your face? Your tits? Your . . . what?” “My hate.”
