Chapter 6: One Bed

"Mina's idea," I said.

"She says a real couple won't mind." My mother picked the platter back up. "You're both adults. I'm not stupid, Hana-ya."

"Umma."

"Brush your teeth. Your father will check."

She went out.

I climbed the stairs.

Eli was already in my room with our bags.

He was standing in the middle of the floor, looking at the walls.

I'd forgotten about the walls.

My mother had never taken anything down.

Every drawing I'd made from age nine to eighteen was still taped up there, curling at the corners.

Horses. Hands. My grandmother's face. Our dog that died.

The lake in every season.

The pool house, over and over, because it was where I used to hide during parties.

"Don't look at those," I said.

"They're on the wall."

"They're bad."

"They're not bad." He was in front of a pencil sketch of the pool house steps. "How old were you?"

"I don't know. Fifteen?"

He looked at it a second longer than he needed to.

Then he turned around and looked at the bed.

It was a full-size bed with a quilt my grandmother had made.

It looked very small with him standing next to it.

"I'll take the floor," he said.

"You won't fit on the floor. I'll take it."

"You're the client."

"It's my room."

"It's your sister's trap. I'm not letting it work." He found the spare comforter on the closet shelf. "Floor's fine. I've slept in the machine shop."

"Why?"

"Deadlines."

He spread the comforter out between the bed and the window.

I went into the bathroom across the hall and changed into my sleep shirt and shorts.

I took longer than I needed to.

I brushed my teeth twice.

When I came back I didn't knock, because it was my room.

He was halfway into a grey T-shirt, his back to me, his arms up over his head.