“Jane! Are you all right? What is it?” His voice was a frantic whisper. Jane was still unable to speak. “Jane! What’s the matter?”
She heard some noise, as if Peter had picked up the telephone, and then what sounded like a door being closed.
“Sorry,” Peter said, “I had to take the phone into my room. Can you tell me what’s going on?”
She got herself under enough control to speak. “I’m sorry, Peter. It’s just that I feel like…like such a weirdo.”
She sobbed a few more times, then grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. Then she continued. “It’s like…when I’m with you, everything we do is great. I mean, I know it’s not normal, or what other people do, but it’s okay. It’s better than okay. I love what we do together—you know that, right? Everything.”
“I know.” Peter’s voice was full of concern. “This is about what happened this morning, right?”
“Yeah.” Jane had settled down to
