Beth pressed the phone to her ear, trying to make sense of her mother’s words. But the vision of her cut-up underwear from the night before kept rising up, like a movie playing of its own will, over and over, until she could no longer stand it. Until she was left—again—feeling helpless and violated.
“I tried this recipe for sole last night. You use sour cream and Tabasco. It was delicious.”
“I’ll have to get that from you and try it,” Beth said. “Mark’s always saying we need to eat more fish.” The words came out without inflection, as if she’d read them off a page. Her mother didn’t seem to notice. Her mother didn’t seem to notice much when talking about food.
“Well, the sour cream kinda negates some of the health benefits, but you could use plain yogurt.”
Each pair of panties had had
