Chapter 7

Simone’s technique had improved—Lucy refused to think about whether she’d been practicing—but contained still that peculiar sense of bemused, deliberate exploration. One got the impression she was silently taking notes on the experience. Lucy found that deeply endearing, perhaps because, as a scientist, she herself had been accused of studying the life out of things. A bewildering complaint. How did one better appreciatea thing than by discovering everything about it?

For a few minutes Lucy gave herself over to kissing Simone, slow and sweet and thorough. How astonishing that she was alive, she could move and see and think, her life still stood open before her—and all due to Simone. Brave, sweet, lonely, fascinating Simone who even Lucy had not thought could care for her, but here she was kissing Lucy and holding her tightly, and that was worth being alive for. Even if it had come at a disturbing price…