Parcheesi, just as we've done a hundred times. But I
 
 want to shower first and wash my hair and put on
 
 some makeup and perfume. I want to feel normal and
 
 happy again."
 
 She charged down the stairs ahead of me. If she
 
 could get herself to forget it all, I should be able to, I
 
 thought, and quickly followed. I waited for her to
 
 shower. We talked while she dried her hair with a
 
 towel. She wanted to know everything I had said to
 
 my father and mother and all the questions they had asked. I explained how I answered everything so
 
 carefully.
 
 "You were great," she said. "I couldn't have
 
 done any better if the roles were reversed."
 
 Roles reversed? I would have a better chance
 
 walking on the moon. There was no way the roles
 
 could have ever been reversed. I wanted to tell her
 
 that, to be sure she understood that we were birds of a
 
 feather only in some ways. No matter how many halftruths or clever answers I came up with, I was not
 
 standing in the same shoes and never would. As I watched her brush her hair and do her
 
 makeup, I thought how weird it was that she could
 
 still be so beautiful and care so much about her looks
 
 under these circumstances and after what had
 
 happened. It was truly as if she could step out of the
 
 person she had been the day before and become
 
 someone else today. Did that come from inner
 
 strength or inner madness?
 
 She chatted on, planning our days and nights as
 
 if she believed we would go on like this for months
 
 and months, maybe even years.
 
 "After a while, the police will stop running all