Chapter 21: Three Options, All Yes

Victor's POV

I knocked on her door at 9:10 on Thursday night.

This time I had no cup of tea, no lemon, and no speech.

I had a list.

It was in my head, and it was seven years long.

Nadia opened the door in the gray T-shirt, with the cat on her shoulder and the annulment folder under her arm.

She did not look surprised.

"Come in," she said. "Don't touch the table."

The folder had been on the kitchen table all week, I could tell, because the wood around it was cleaner.

I looked past her at the counter.

The pickle jar sat on the drying rack, washed, with its lid off.

It was empty.

I had never seen it empty.

"Where's the money?" I said.

"I took it out Tuesday night. Your twenty is in an envelope with your name on it."

"I owed eighty."

"I counted. You haven't made a dodge since Sal's study." She set the cat down. "The fine is for the dodge, not for the man."

"I said something about doors at your door last week."

"That was an observation about doors."

I laughed once, because I had no choice, and then I stopped.

"I'm going to talk," I said. "It may take a while. I would like you to let me finish."

She pulled out a chair, sat, and folded her hands in her lap.

I did not sit.

"Oolong," I said. "No sugar. Steeped three minutes, because two is bitter and four is punishment."

"Victor."

"A lemon wedge on the saucer, never in the cup, because you once said it tastes like cleaning product."

"Victor."

"You take the second elevator, because the first one smells of toast."

"You chew your pen caps flat."

"You say 'fine' when it isn't, and 'interesting' when you're angry, and 'huh' when you're about to cry."

She did not move.

"You sing in the shower, badly, when you think the water covers it."

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