The phone rings. It’s my sister, Virginia. She sounds worried. “I know you’re there, Dora. Why haven’t you returned my calls?  If you don’t pick up I’m coming over…”  I pick up.

“I’m OK,” I say.

“You don’t sound OK. Are you doing another one of your book hermit things?”  Nobody knows me like Virginia.

“I’ve been a little upset.”

“A little, like twenty-four hours little or a little, like three days little?”

“Like three days little.”

“Doesn’t sound little to me. Do you want me to come over?”

I look around. My place is a shambles. “No. Really. I’m fine. I was just going out.”

I convince her that I’m simply marvelous and she buys it. She just doesn’t get it. She has a husband and a baby. Who can blame her?

I pick up the Hazard book and try again. This is so depressing. I have just finished an early chapter about Ted Tice, Paul Ivory and Caro and I can already tell they are all eventually doomed to lives of unspeakable loss and tragedy. For one thing, Paul is gay, or at the very least bisexual, and for another, oh forget it.