They watch him in the side mirror of the car, sipping Thai iced teas. He’s brooding, flipping pizza in a sullen chain restaurant kitchen, not looking up.

“I believed my own hype,” mutters Liz. “Stupid. I thought if I loved him, that if I tried, I could fuck the crazy out of his brain.”

Delarivier shakes her head. “Your failure lies in where you placed his crazy.”

“You don’t have to put our whole relationship in terms of my failure,” says Liz.

“I didn’t. You did.”

“Then where was it really, smartass?”

“Men,” says Delarivier, “are crazy down to the bones.”