“I’d like to have one. They’re not exactly prevalent in Egyptian cuisine.”
I am flooded with gratitude for Wyatt, for making this feel normal, instead of unbearable. For pretending, even if it’s only for the next half hour, that I am not about to pull the thread that completely unravels the life I’ve been wrapped in.
“I can make that happen,” I say.
—
IT IS JUSTafter 7:00P.M. when Wyatt drops me off at my house. We have decided that it’s best I do this first part alone. For a moment, we sit with our hands knotted on the gearshift. “Whatever happens, Olive,” he says, “I don’t blame you. I know full well that I’m not exactly a welcome visitor for anyone in that house.” His voice roughens. “And if she isn’t ready to see me right away, well, I’ve waited fifteen years. I can wait some more.”
I nod and open the passenger door, but he doesn’t let go of my hand. “I can’t help thinking that once you walk through that door, you won’t come back out,” Wyatt says softly. He leans forward and stamps a kiss on my lips like a brand. I get out of the car before I can change my mind and walk up the steps. I hesitate at the door, not sure if I should knock, or just walk in. Wyatt is still waiting at the curb, as if he knows I might turn and take refuge again in his car.
Taking a deep breath, I enter my house.
I hear water running in the sink and follow it to the kitchen. Brian stands with his back to me, rinsing dishes and putting them into the dishwasher. I have a sudden, searing flash of memory: the summer that the dishwasher broke and we didn’t have enough money to pay for a new one, so we’d flip a coin each night to see who got kitchen duty. How, when I lost, he would still come into the kitchen and dry the dishes for me, so I didn’t have to do it all alone.
“I’m back,” I say.
Brian knew I was being discharged, but I hadn’t told him when, exactly, I was arriving back in Boston. He might have assumed I’d want to travel by car, which would take another day. I watch his shoulders square, and then he turns off the faucet and pivots, wiping his hands on a dish towel and seeing me upright and healthy, except for the scar in the shape of a question mark. For one glorious, unexpected moment, joy washes over his face, like gilding on a statue. In one step, he is across the room and I am in his arms and he’s crushing me against him. He leans back, running his hands down my arms as if he needs to convince himself that I am real. But then, the space between us solidifies, pushing back at each of our edges, until we are standing a foot apart and no longer touching.
“The doctors say it’s going to take more than a plane crash to get rid of me,” I say, trying for cheer, and realizing too late that the sentence falls flat.
“Good,” Brian says. “That’s good.”
“I have to get my staples removed in a few days. Kieran can do it.”
He nods. We stare at each other. The room is full of the conversation we are not having. He doesn’t say,Where is Wyatt?I don’t say,What happens next?
“Where’s Meret?” I ask finally.
Brian’s eyes flicker toward the staircase. “In her room.”
Every muscle in me wants to avoid the conversation we have to have, to run to her instead.
“Where is he?” Brian asks.
I drag my gaze to his. “At a hotel,” I say.
Brian’s hands ball into fists at his sides; I watch him force his features smooth again.
“You can’t keep doing this,” I say.
“Doing what?”
“Treating me like I’m made of glass.”
“I’m not treating you like anything.”
“Exactly. Because I almost died. But I didn’t.” I take a step forward. “We have to talk, Brian, as if I wasn’t in a plane crash.”
“If you hadn’t run away youwouldn’thave been in a plane crash,” Brian blurts out. He falls back, as if the force of his anger has shoved him.
His voice is hot and low, a match touching tinder.You asked for this,I remind myself. Before the entire house goes up in flames, I reach for his arm, intending to pull him into the backyard for privacy. But the moment I touch him, he jerks like he’s been burned.
Which, I suppose, he has.
“Let’s not do this where Meret can hear us.”
“Oh,” he says. “Sonowyou’re thinking about her?”
