I am in no mood to discuss anything with anyone.
I've a fever and a headache and Esperanza is hovering over me, suffocating me with worry and tortilla chicken soup.
Lauren knows better than to treat me like a child, Ryan is plain afraid of me and my germs, and Clarissa is simply too elated not to have to discuss As I Lay Dying with me. Oh, the irony in that. As I Lay Dying.
It's obvious to me Clarissa didn't like the book. I never expected her to like it. It isn't a story to be liked. It's the writing that is likeable, for pity's sake. You don't have to like Hannibal Lecter to appreciate the intricacies of his character.
I really don't have the energy or initiative to expound on any of this. I just want a hot cup of tea, Sonnets From the Portuguese, and solitude.
It's not like I wish the girls weren't here in the house with me. I didn't say I wanted silence. I can hear them getting ready for class and dates and work, and I don't mind the sounds that I hear.
I just want to be alone as I listen.