Galilee. Clive Barker

money, and there’s nobody home to use it.”

      “They use it all the time,” Rachel said.

      “No,” Margie replied. “It uses them. They’re not living. None of us Gearys are. We’re all just going through the motions.” She peered at her glass. “I know I drink too much. It’s rotting my liver and it’ll probably kill me. But at least when I’ve got a few whiskeys inside me I’m not stuck being Mrs. Garrison Geary. When I’m drunk I give up being his wife, I’m somebody he wishes he didn’t know. I like that.”

      Rachel shook her head in despair. “If it’s so bad,” she said, “why don’t you just leave?”

      “I’ve tried. I’ve left him three times. Once I stayed away for five months. But…you get into a certain way of being. You get comfortable.” Rachel looked uneasy. “It doesn’t take long. Look, I don’t like living in Garrison’s shadow, but I like living without his credit cards even less.”

      “You could divorce him and get a very nice settlement, Margie. You could live anywhere you wanted, anyway you wanted.”