They Drank My Father’s Champagne and Toasted My Death. They Forgot Whose Daughter I Am
Thank you for the three hundred million.”
I have thought a great deal about that sentence since — the flatness of it, the way he thanked me.
Not I’m sorry. Not even hatred, which would at least have been a feeling aimed at a person.
Just a transaction closing, a receipt signed.
To Flynn I had never been a woman he’d wronged; I had been a mechanism for moving money, and now the mechanism had done its job and was being decommissioned.
In eight months of the most intimate performance a person can give, he had never once slipped and let me become real to him.