[Lorraine:] Monday when we had the spaghetti dinner and put on those costumes was a lovely evening. It really was. I think when we looked at each other in the candlelight, it was the first time I was glad to be alive. I didn't know exactly why. It was sort of silly I suppose—him with his moustache and me with the feather in my hair—but somehow it was as if I was being told about something, something wonderful, something beautiful waiting just for me. All I had to do was wait long enough. (12)
[Lorraine:] This particular mood in John had been building up ever since the night that he kissed me in the bedroom. I don't know whether he had just started thinking about our relationship—that I might possibly be something more than his straight man. I really don't know. But suddenly we had become slightly awkward in front of each other. Of course I had always been clumsy around him, but at least I knew I had been in love with him for months. I also knew he liked me a lot but only as a friend or a dreamboat with a leak in it. But now suddenly he was wearing shaving lotion, combing his hair, and fighting with me. There was something about all that which made me smile as I scraped the Sloppy-Joe sauce off his plate. (12)
[Police officer:] "This where you live?"
[Lorraine:] "Yes . . . please. . . ."
"Do you kids always get your kicks picking on old people?"
"Please just let us go. I promise we won't do anything like this again. We won't go over there any more." I was ashamed of myself because I was beginning to plead.
"Let's just talk to your family a minute," the skinny one said, opening his door. I burst into tears as the cold air rushed into the car. […]
The policeman took me up the steps.
"My mother's going to beat me."
"You should have thought about that a little earlier, young lady." He rang the bell. (14)