Once, while we were still dating, she caught me appreciating the figure of a salesgirl.
We were shopping in a mall clothing store, and I waited, as all men do, while she tried on different garments. Rachel emerged from the dressing room to get my opinion of the latest choice. I didn’t notice her. I was idly watching the salesgirl put away clothes. Rachel gauged the emotion in my eyes and followed my gaze to the stockinged legs of the young woman. A sound escaped Rachel’s throat. A sound I had never before heard. It was neither animal nor human. It was inorganic. It was anguish. Rachel seemed to crumple in on herself, as though the horrid sound she emitted were her escaping life essence. I went to her, hands open. She warded me off. “Don’t! Don’t you! Don’t!” Her hands went to her head. Her fingers tore strands, then clumps, of her hair out of her head. Her scalp began to bleed. The salesgirl stared at us, horrified. I have been very careful ever since.