"Grinding of sexual organs." He sniggered. "Well, that's a new one. Here we go. It's your perverse perspectives in your paintings and life in general that I object to. You aren't always that way and you don't have to be that way. The fact that you overcame obstacles to become such a successful artist was my initial attraction. I encourage your art -- still-life, portraits, landscapes, beautiful things. Those thing are a Catholic expression of God -- not the surreal I don't know what that you put to canvas. It sells. That's good. It's critically appraised. That's fine. But you need healthy expressions." "Former profession…non-taxable income…somewhat illegal. I can't believe you are rubbing my nose in this. I had a son to raise. You were one of my clients. You aren't perfect either. I think we shouldn't say bad things. My head is—it's too much" "I'm sorry, Gabriele. That was--" He halted. "Out of order," she filled in. "Okay, a bit." Looking at the lifeless thing in the bed he spoke diffidently, unsure of his words. "I would be honored if you would marry me. Now, get out of bed and let's talk about it--take an Aspirin if your head hurts." "That doesn't work with these things. What works you had me flush down the toilet like an ignoramus." "Where did you get it from? One of your Johns?" She laughed bitterly. "No, I don't want to marry someone this ignorant and insensitive." "So what's this been if you don't love me." "I care about you." "What's the difference?" "I'm tempted to say none, but that isn't it. Most people wouldn't agree with me but I'd say that being in love is psychosomatic and caring is real; so yes, I love you in a real way but I won't marry you. I won't be owned by a man and I won't feel lost to him." She said it despite these urges within her continually to just nod to whatever he said and to cling to him as if family were the most concrete of life's illusions. It was only from being run over by a tank or two and having known the temporary nature of an insufferable family that she was saved from that illusion. She smiled. It was wry with a general look of confusion. As he walked away she found it mildly amusing that girlhood tragedies were delivering her from feminine predilections. Chapter Thirty-Three