Chapter 5: Glass

The wall between Room 6 and Room 7 was one sheet of thin paneling.

I heard Boone take his boots off at nine.

I heard the shower, and the bed take his weight, and then nothing for a long time.

At midnight I heard him get up again and walk the length of his room and back.

I lay on my side with one hand flat on my stomach and did not sleep.

I told myself it was the highway noise.

Around one I gave up and went to the diner for water.

Birdie kept a pitcher in the cooler, and the kitchen was dark except for the light over the grill.

I took down a glass from the high shelf.

It was thick and old, and my hand was shaking from lack of sleep, and it slid out of my fingers and broke on the tile.

I knelt to pick up the pieces without thinking and a shard went into the heel of my hand.

It wasn't deep, but it bled a lot.

I said a word Birdie would not have liked.

The kitchen door opened before I had finished saying it.

Boone stood there in a gray T-shirt and jeans, barefoot, with his hair wrecked from the pillow.

"I heard it break," he said.

"I'm fine."

"You're bleeding on the floor."

"I know that, Boone."

He crossed the kitchen in three steps and crouched in front of me.