’ Melusine threw her hands in the air. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. His baggy shorts sagged over knobby knees that tapered into decrepit Reebok sneakers. . F. I am going up to dine with my sister. She had even confided to him how lonely it was in the island. And all the old—the old trick of shrinking up like a snail at a touch. ’ He grinned. “You MUST,” he said, “because of my depression.
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