I’ve heard that a man only really falls in love one time, and I believe that is true, which is why I never remarried after Jessica died. What was the point? I wasn’t going to do any better than I already had. Jessica was real mashed potatoes and butter. To me the rest of the women in the world would always be the equivalent of Hank’s mashed cauliflower, bland and unsatisfying. He might call it “heart healthy,” but the heart knows what it fucking wants, and it’s hardly ever cauliflower.