Chapter 19: The Thing I Wanted

I did not know what to feel about Craig losing his job.

I said "I'm sorry to hear that," and meant it the way I would for a stranger.

Tressa said the other woman's husband had mailed a copy of the lease to Craig's regional manager, with a cover letter.

Both of them had been let go before New Year's.

I went home and made soup, because it was the only thing in the house I knew how to do without a schedule.

On Friday the county sent a letter, and I put it on the yellow table without opening it.

On Saturday it began to snow in the afternoon, and by four the plows had stopped coming down Water Street.

Neil showed up on the ramp with two grocery bags, snow on his shoulders, and a look of great innocence.

"I was in the neighborhood."

"You live forty minutes away."

"The roads are closed," he said. "It would be irresponsible to drive."

He was no help in a kitchen, but he chopped an onion with his whole body, and I forgave him.

We made soup out of what he'd brought and what I'd had, and it came out better than either of us deserved.

I stirred, and Neil leaned on the counter and watched me do it.

"You check the stove twice," he said.

"What?"

"Every time you walk away from it, you turn around and look at the burner."

He tilted his head. "I've been meaning to say that for about a month."

"You notice things and say them late."

"I know. It's a character flaw."

"What else do you notice?"

"That you've never once said what you want." He said it plainly, as if reading a chart.

"I say what I want."

"You say what's convenient. You say 'whatever you'd like.' You said it on the incline."