Kylie and Nick went to the symphony the next night, and by the time she came home, Blair was sound asleep on the sofa. The doctor gently woke her and helped her to her feet. “But I wanna stay up and talk about being a lesbian,” Blair mumbled, her words sounding comical given her tousled hair and sleep-suffused voice. “We can talk about being lesbians tomorrow.” Kylie scratched the back of Blair’s neck, knowing that a good scratch was as effective as ether. By the time they reached the bedroom, Kylie merely had to urge her onto the bed and cover her with a quilt. “That’s my girl,” Kylie said.
Susan X. Meagher, All That Matters
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