“Well, they want to do Caesar and he refuses to be in that ever again. He thinks that’s the play that fucked us all up. I keep telling him he’s wrong.”
“You think it was Macbeth that fucked us up?”
“No.” She stops at a red light and glances at me. “I think we were all fucked up from the start.” The car rumbles to life again, slides into first gear, then second.
“I don’t know if that’s true,” I say, but neither of us pursues the subject.