Kay has brought out the whiskey and we sit, wrapped in soft bathrobes, on her deck again. I take a sip, and another.
“Good stuff, huh?” She eyes me quizzically. “There’s something different about you. You seem more at ease after that swim.” A smile slides along her lips. “Are you catholic? Was it like being baptized all over again?”
Silently, I shake my head and wait until she relaxes back into her seat, twirling her glass between her fingers. “What you asked me earlier. About what happened to me?”
“Yes.” Kay nods.
“I gave up. On life. On everything.” The soft, steady voice with which I proclaim the words surprises me. “Mainly on myself, because I was so sick of making the same mistakes over and over again, of repeating the endless cycle of a short peak of happiness—usually brought on
