I was driving her one last time from school. It was the very least I could do. We’d let her down, you see, we’d let her down so very much. But instead of being angry she said: I feel numb, as if I’m not feeling anything anymore, as if I’m not totally here. It’s like I’m sitting under the water and I can look up and I see the waves. But I can’t feel them. Do you know what I mean? She laughed her nervous laugh, the laugh she used to punctuate all of our chats.
I nodded. I do, was all I managed to say in response to her eloquence. We talked of other things and I held it together at the time, only crying as I drove away, punching the steering wheel in protest at the injustices of the universe and my own pathetic inability to address them.