Joe, my foster dad, was a heroin and booze addict. “Don’t lie to everyone, Lucy! You know it’s the truth!” Michelle defended herself. Every eye was fixed upon the prisoner. “Why should women be dependent on men?” she asked; and the question was at once converted into a system of variations upon the theme of “Why are things as they are?”—“Why are human beings viviparous?”—“Why are people hungry thrice a day?”—“Why does one faint at danger?” She stood for a time looking at the dry limbs and still human face of that desiccated unwrapped mummy from the very beginnings of social life. ‘Then it is that you will have pity? Here we have come, we poor, for aid.
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