"A hardware tycoon."
"Dad's a worker; but he supervises others—a manager. Nothing special."
"I think that is special." She opened the door. "Come in, Miss Kennedy Smith. Sit down over there while I pour you whiskey and cola without the whiskey." She had to admit to herself that she found her little friendship with Rita/Lily rather amusing. What more could one want from a friendship? It was fresh air in the stale cellar of one's mind.
As she took a bottle out of the refrigerator and poured the content into glasses on the counter, she looked onto this pathetic society that was hers. Rita/Lily's feigned smile was lasting an abnormally long time and waxed and waned awkwardly. "Man problems?" asked Gabriele.
"Sort of," she giggled bashfully. "Really, it's not having one. I feel lonely.
I don't know what to do with myself."
"You're not supposed to date anyhow. Didn't you say that the group home got you a job waiting on tables in the concession area of the skating rink?"
"Semi-independent. I'm in semi-independent. Semi-independent counselors."
"Whatever. Same counselors; but okay, let's be precise: semi."
"I feel alone in the evenings."
"Read a book."