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“Jesus, Pete, you’ve developed a one track mind since your divorce. She looked familiar because she is Conchita Delgado, the actress. You won’t have any luck with her, I’m afraid, she’s in love with Tommy.”Pete’s eyebrows went up in surprise.“Of course,” Giles said, snapping his fingers. “I’ve seen three or four of her movies on late night television. She’s not Katharine Hepburn, but she has a certain appeal. Wow, our young lieutenant seems to be doing very well for himself. I thought the young woman he saved was his girl friend.”“Actually, Tommy and Caroline, that’s the girl’s name, barely get along. Tommy was just being Tommy. He is quite an amazing young man, no matter what criteria you use. He has overcome so much adversity, that I don’t have many concerns about him getting over this latest setback.”Giles looked at her questioningly as she went on about Bledsoe. Her voice contained something else besides admiration. Margie glanced sideways and blushed when she caught his look. She. Strange isn't it, the way some dreams are like that? But I remembered the water and kneeling on the shore. Washing my face. Pouring the sea into my eyes so that the salt was stinging. I wept in my dreams and that was a secret pleasure and I didn't want to leave it. Five minutes more, facing the rising sun with my shadow long behind me. Two minutes or just one ... A single moment less than I could bear."Wake up, bitch!" Cold water on my face was the only bath I would know, and a voice that was deep and rough and unkind, as it must be in a place like that.I'd learned not to cry a long time ago. Not asking why took a little longer, but all of my questions went away eventually. That's what it is to be a slave. I was numb now, except in my dreams, and numbness is a thing you can't understand until you feel it. Until it consumes you. Becomes you."You go on television today." There was the clattering of a metal tray being shoved under the bars, kicked towards me so that the cold hard rice.
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