“It has been doing it for months.”
“That does not answer the question.”
“It remains operational.”
“You teach people to inspect life-support equipment.”
“A refrigerator is not life-support equipment.”
“Rosa may disagree.”
I laughed, but the moment had shifted. Not disappeared, only become aware of itself again.
Annie’s hands remained at my waist.
“I should probably get ready for bed,” she said.
It was barely nine-thirty.
I almost pointed that out.
Instead, I nodded.
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
She collected her bag and walked down the hall.
The spare-room door stayed open while she placed a few things into the dresser. I stood in the kitchen listening to drawers open and close.
I had invited her back because I wanted to discover what happened when there was no secret between us.
So far, I had kissed her twice, been interrupted by an appliance, and sent her to bed before ten.
Romance remained an area of developing expertise.
I washed the glasses, checked the refrigerator to confirm it had not died, and locked the front door. Then I brushed my teeth for far too long while examining my face in the mirror.
I was not confused about wanting Annie.
I was confused about whether wanting her made everything else less important or more dangerous.
Neither option was especially useful.
When I left the bathroom, the spare-room door was partly closed.
I walked past it.
Reached my bedroom.
Stopped.
Then turned around.
A light was still on inside the spare room.
I knocked against the edge of the open door.
Annie was sitting on the bed in shorts and a T-shirt, reading something on her phone. She put it aside immediately.
