Beatrice
Our hotel suite looks like a multi-generational slumber party. Diane and Bessie are sleeping on the chaise longue, and Olivia and Rosalind have more or less passed out on large cushions on the floor after drinking the mini-bar's selection of mini-booze. I'm the only one awake because I fell asleep before the drinking began, and now with the edges of my exhaustion sated, my mind isn't letting me sleep anymore. Outside, it's still dark, but the sun is about to rise. Through the windows, I can see the sun peeking over the mountains in the distance.
Peace.
Looking at the sleeping women, who only days ago were perfect strangers, touches me in a deep way. We've lied, saying that we're family, but in some respects, we've become family. What else is it called when there's so much carin
