Chapter 18: Twenty Minutes

The tiger finished its first verse, and Ansel did not move.

He lay on his back with one arm under my head and looked at the ceiling.

The phone buzzed itself sideways across the nightstand.

"You can answer it," I said.

"I know."

"I won't count it against you."

"I would," he said.

He reached out, turned the phone face down, and pulled the oven timer off the dresser.

I had no idea how it had gotten there.

"I brought it in last night while you were looking for water," Ansel said. "I thought we might need it."

"You planned this."

"I planned to try."

He set the dial to twenty minutes, and it began to tick.

The phone stopped, and then it started again.

It rang repeatedly.

I listened, not knowing what else to do with my hands.

Ansel held my hand under the sheet and watched the ceiling.

"It's the longest I've ever listened to it," he said.

"What does it sound like?"

"Like I'm being paged for something I already did."

The ringing stopped for good.

A moment later the phone buzzed once against the wood.

"Text," I said.

"Don't read it."

"I wasn't going to."

"You were thinking about it."

"I'm allowed to think about it," I said. "You're just not allowed to answer."

It buzzed again, and then again, in a short stuttering run.

"I can tell you what they say without looking," Ansel said. "The first one is, I have a feeling."

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