“And …” he knows there’s more. I’m sure he saw the tears.
“Green with envy,” I say.
I can hear him say those horrible words, “another lesson”. But he doesn’t have to speak them, they are implied.
As the countryside flies by our train, I have the feeling I’m moving into another world. I have no roots but what Billy supplies, no strength but what I glean from him and myself. I can cling to nothing but the desires I have, what my body tells me about where I want to take these passions—it’s very deep, aggressively seeking its satisfaction. My mind can hardly keep up with the way it draws me down. Billy knows this. He guides me well. But I cannot relax for even a second. He’s constantly prodding me as though he has that cane in my side nudging me forward.
***
Once we reach Paris, Billy’s
