"You motherfucking, son of…"

"Such language," Johnny said, sitting on the couch.

Marie glared at him for several long moments, and then, in resignation, plopped down on a chair.

Caught in the middle, but still understanding how the girl felt, Ann turned to Johnny. "Get your clothes on and go get us a taco," she said.

"A taco?" Johnny asked, as if hearing the word for the first time.

"Taco, pizza, hell, a roast chicken," Ann said exasperated. "Just get the fuck out of here for a while. Girl talk."

Johnny shrugged his shoulders and got off the couch. He gave Ann a quizzical look and went into the bedroom.

Both women were silent as he dressed, and it was several moments after he left before either spoke.

"What happens now?" Marie asked in a little-girl voice.

"That's entirely up to you," Ann said. "You can sit there and be as pissed as you want. I don't blame you."

Marie stood up and clutched her hands, then wiped them on her jeans. She walked over to the window and fingered the curtains. She lowered her head, barely touching the wall with her forehead and exhaled audibly.

"That bastard," she said, almost affectionately.

"That good-looking, no-good bastard."

"You love him, don't you?" Ann said.

Marie nodded her head, then she turned. "Hell, I don't know," she said, her voice cracking. "He's the only person I've ever…"

"You want to cry?" Ann said softly. "Go ahead. I'm your friend, I…"

Before Ann could finish what she was going to say, Marie raced across the room and grabbed her violently, her voice breaking in a turmoil of sadness.

"I don't like loving," she said. "It hurts too much!"

"Oh, come on," Ann whispered. "What do you know about love?"

"How much do you know?" Marie said, her tone bitter.

Ann was taken aback. Simply because she was a few years older than Marie, what gave her the right to treat her like a child? The girl, ironically, probably even had more experience! Ann pulled away from Marie, suddenly ashamed.