Chapter 22: Blinds Shut

I spent Thursday afternoon taping black trash bags over my bedroom window.

I used two rolls of duct tape and a bath towel on the gap at the bottom.

When I switched the lamp off and stood in the dark, I couldn't see my own hand.

"Perfect," I said to nobody.

My phone said dawn was at 7:21.

Cyrus arrived at ten past ten that night, with a toothbrush in his coat pocket and a very serious face.

"You brought a toothbrush," I said.

"I read that it was customary."

"You don't even need one."

"I wanted one to be here."

"Come here."

We did not rush that night.

We ate leftover soup at my counter and watched a baking show on my laptop.

His feet were on the green couch and my head was in his lap.

At four in the morning I took his hand and led him to bed.

My bedroom smelled like duct tape, and the bed rail still had its crack.

"I'll fix that," he said.

"Don't. I like it."

I undressed him there in the pitch dark, with only the faint light from the hall.

Then I let him undress me, slowly, kissing every inch of skin that came bare.

We lay down on the narrow bed face to face, with our legs tangled and the quilt over us.

"This is the longest I have ever been awake in a bed with someone," he said.

"How does it feel?"

"Like I'm going to say something stupid."

"Say it."

"I have loved you since the first night."

I put my forehead against his.

"That's not stupid," I said.

"I wasn't sure."

"I think I loved you in the lobby. When you said 'Put none, please.'"

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