The first time I went to the loony bin, we lived on Vista Del Monte behind a gas station that sold cigarettes for $1.75. That was the year I turned into the angel on top of the Christmas tree.

I tore into the last present (I think it was a cotton nightgown with blue buttons down the front), and my arms curled into pipe cleaners. Gray bunnies jumped out of the carpet.

My boyfriend leaned on his knees and unwrapped the plaid Gap boxers, the books on tape, the pepper grinder. Either he didn't see the rabbits nibbling at the tinsel or he ignored them.

I tilted my hollow porcelain head in his direction, accidentally scratched his face with my sequined wing."I've turned into the angel on the top of the tree," I said.

He spread a chunk of cheddar cheese log onto a cracker with his thumb.

"I was going to ask you to marry me," he said. "I was going to buy you a ring for Christmas."

"Oh," I said.

We both stared at the nightgown.