Chapter 9: Salt

The house on the north end belonged to somebody Jonas had served with, and it smelled of cedar and old sunscreen.

It had a screened porch, a bed with a quilt, and windows that stayed open all night to the sound of the surf.

"You should sleep," Jonas said.

He had said it four times since the clinic.

He had cooked scrambled eggs and made Cooper eat them, and counted out the pills, and checked his ankles for swelling.

Now he stood at the foot of the bed in a clean undershirt, watching Cooper sit on the quilt in his shorts.

"I slept in the truck."

"For forty minutes."

"Brannen." Cooper patted the mattress. "Come here."

"You collapsed today."

"I did. And the doctor said I'm fine. And I have fewer days than I had this morning, and I'd like to spend this one in a way I'll remember."

Jonas didn't move.

"Don't make me say it twice," Cooper said. "Item four."

"Item four's not on the napkin."

"It's on the new one."

He pulled it from under the pillow, smoothed it flat, and held it up.

He'd written it in the clinic waiting room while Jonas was talking to the doctor.

Jonas read it.

It said: Be the one in charge, just once.

The room was very quiet.

The surf came in through the screens and went out again, and in the dark Jonas's throat moved as he swallowed.

"Cooper."

"Last night you showed me how. Tonight I want to try," Cooper said.

"You've never..."

"I've never done lots of things. I have a list." Cooper smiled at him, crooked, with the chipped tooth showing. "Lie down."

Jonas lay down.

It was the most beautiful thing Cooper had ever seen.

A man that size lay still and open on the white sheet, looking up at him with trust.

He climbed over him on his hands and knees.

He started with the mouth, because he wanted to, and he took his time, until Jonas's hands found his hips and gripped.

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