Chapter 6: November

My mother had made enough pancakes for a regiment, and she put the first plate in front of Ben.

"Eat," she said.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Not ma'am. Wendy."

"Yes, Wendy."

She stood over him with the spatula until he had taken a bite.

Then she patted his shoulder and moved off, and I saw her glance back at him once.

My hair was still wet.

My thighs still hummed, and under the table Ben's knee was pressed against mine, warm and steady.

I had not told him to take it away.

The long table was full.

My father sat at the head with his hearing aids in and the paper folded beside his plate.

My aunts passed the syrup.

Janelle sat across from me, in a camel sweater, with her left hand resting on the table.

"Did you two sleep okay?" she said. "The walls are so thin up here."

My coffee stopped halfway to my mouth.

"Fine," I said.

"Like a baby," Ben said, and cut his pancake.

"Funny. I thought I heard something."

"The wind," my mother said, from the stove, without turning around. "It's an old house."

Under the table Ben's hand came to rest on my thigh.

It was warm and heavy through my jeans.

It was exactly where I would have put it.

I looked at him.

He was eating pancakes with his other hand and watching my father with a perfectly straight face.

"Rule two," I whispered.

"Amended," he whispered back.

"By whom?"

"I thought I heard you say it in the shower."