She wanted a bond, not a ring. No, she didn’t want to be married. She refused to be married. If you weren’t married you couldn’t be divorced. Either you loved one another, or you didn’t. If you did, you naturally wanted to be with one another, and so you would be. She knew where they should live. That’s where they would live. There was no point arguing. He didn’t want to argue. She would open her legs as widely as possible, pressing her ankles into the grip of his fists, everything straight and direct, climaxing fast, saying, “That’s a baby. I know that’s a baby.” Michael would talk to her. She liked him talking to her. She would answer, saying, “My mind is in your mind. Your mind is in my mind. Can you feel it? I can feel it.” Again her belly would come up to his and start bucking. She’d say, “Now you come, baby.” He’d say, “I already did.” She’d pretend to be angry, and they would start all over again.