Chapter 11: The Night Before

"Tomorrow," I said. "I told you. Tomorrow."

"It's the day before the worst day of my career."

"Then you'll hear it tomorrow, after the worst day of your career."

"That is a cruel schedule."

"I'm an ER tech," I said. "I know how to pace bad news and good news."

He kissed my knuckles, one at a time, and let it go.

On Monday night he came to my flat at nine, with a bag of groceries and his wool coat buttoned to the chin.

Snow was falling outside.

The radiator was banging.

"I made soup," he said, and held up a thermos.

I stared at it.

"Not a pot," he said hastily. "A thermos. Heated it myself on the stove. The old-fashioned way."

"Anselm."

"Yes?"

"You made soup."

"I did. It's mostly potato."

I laughed so hard I had to sit down.

We ate at my table with the window rattling and my bad radiator losing its mind.

The soup was warm and a little too salty, and it was the best thing I'd eaten in a month.

When we finished, I washed the bowls and he stood behind me and put his arms around my waist.

His chin rested on my shoulder.

"Tomorrow, he'll watch me," he said.

"Yes."

"I think I can do it."

"I think so too."

"But I might not," he said.

"I know."

"If I don't, it's over."

"No," I said. "If you don't, we figure out the next thing. That's all that's over."

He tightened his arms.

"Take me to bed," he said, into my neck. "Please. I don't want to think about it."

I turned in his arms.

I took his face in my wet hands and kissed him, long and deep, and walked him backward down the hall.

My room was small and cold.

He looked at the bed, and at me, and slowly lifted his hands.

Palms out.

He breathed, once, deep and slow.

"Warm it through," he said.

The air changed.

It was like stepping into a bath.

The quilt warmed, then the sheets, and the whole room filled with a soft golden heat that smelled like clean cotton.

My cold little bedroom had become the warmest place in Cleveland.

"Anselm," I breathed. "You did that without looking."

"I wasn't aiming at the bed," he said. "I was aiming at you. I was picturing you in it."

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