They were locked together now in this new way, by blood, by Alice’s secret, her worst act. They’d sworn in blood under the moon to keep Alice’s secret, and in this way the vowed to keep future secrets, too.

Were they waiting then, huddled together on that bench? Could they sense their gravest mistakes beside them, or know only that they would need to stay within reach of one another as they tested, in turn, how far they could wander from their shared shore before they risked being swept out to sea?

They could die behind this door together, gasping for air, and tonight they wouldn’t mind. They were majestic, transcendent, in love. They were stupid and awful and they were fools. They hated one another, but only because they sometimes hated themselves. They loved the others more than they had loved anyone before, more than they would ever love anyone else on earth, they were certain.

No one knows everything about anyone. Not even themselves. Maybe least of all themselves.

How fast champagne could go from golden and effervescent to acrid and sad, flat in the glass, moss on the teeth.

It was still so new, to be able to cause harm in both directions like this, to disappoint as a daughter, but as a daughter who was a mother herself now, too.

He hadn't birthed a baby, he didn't know, how Elizabeth had torn out of her, left her gaping, bloody, raw, how every creation is an act of destruction, how the bite was borne out of desire to show Elizabeth how deep her love for her ran, how vast, how endless.

On Loving a child: "It wasn't a new key for the same song. It wasn't a new speed in the same lane. It wasn't an adjective she could name." - Lainey

Everyone around her was just between escaping something and not knowing what might come for them next. All they could do was find those people whose hands they would hold fast when they ran.

It was not possible to rescue anyone, she knew by now, but you could recognize her. You could see what she showed you, flinch and keep looking, let her find in your own face the truth.