Chapter 8: Winona Knows

We sat in the tub with the hot water pouring over us, and neither of us dared move.

"Is it the heater?" I whispered.

"The heater's been broken for four days."

"Maybe the landlord."

"At seven-forty in the morning?"

"It could happen."

He looked at his hands again.

The glow was fading, the amber going to gold, then to nothing.

The water ran cold a few seconds later.

We both yelped, and I scrambled out and threw a towel over his head.

He sat on the edge of my bed afterward in my one bathrobe, which stopped at his knees.

He tried to cast on my bedside lamp.

He tried nine times.

I made him stop.

"Think about what you were doing in the shower," I said.

"I was trying not to drown."

"Before that."

"I was," he said, and flushed to his collar. "Looking after you."

"And in the staff room?"

He was quiet.

"In the staff room, I wanted you to be happy," he said. "I wanted to see your face."

"Both times you weren't doing it for the lamp," I said. "You were doing it for someone."

He stared at me, with his wet curls dripping on the collar of my robe.

"Aim at me," I said.

"That sounds crude."

"It's a medical instruction."

He laughed, and it was a real laugh, loose and surprised.

Then he fell asleep on my bed, in my bathrobe, with the coffee going cold on the nightstand.

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