and I want to have children one day although I would prefer to adopt because it’s the only responsible way to have them. I am a good woman not because I cook and clean and want children but because I am gentle and kind and my words are softly spoken. I have made mistakes, yes, but beyond regretting them I have always done my best to correct them. It is time now to correct a recent mistake, something I did just after cooking and cleaning in a strange man’s home: I let him kiss me. Not only did I let him kiss me, but I wanted him to kiss me, and without actually saying so I asked him, poutily pleaded with him, made my lips available to him, and I should not have done these things because I hardly knew this man but for the occasional sidelong glance over the operating table in our ICU. If not reasons enough, then this: a wife, who sees me waiting for her now and whispers, fiercely, “What kind of woman are you?” before rushing away into the ladies’ of this Applebee’s off I-76, which is where I must go to her now and do my best to answer — if not for her sake, mine.