Chapter Twelve
It takes several weeks of walking to get where I need to go—as far South as my poor legs will carry me, as far from clean smells and untainted ocean air as I can go. I breathe easier when I get to one of the steamy cities that remind me of where I grew up. It is not that I greet the place with fond memories, I don’t think people in the South would ever describe their memories that way. But it does feel comfortable, and I’m not as anxious. I stay in the city a day, looking for a printer that could use my talents. Most just want my ass, and I refuse. I can’t even think of s*x. It seems to lie dormant within me, laying forgotten in a now quiet corner of my body. In order to feel alive again, I need to get beyond the belief that I’m irrevocably married to a saint. Even
