Chapter 6: Thirty Days

Lydia did not decide to go to him.

She read the first letter, and then the second.

Then she was in the west corridor in bare feet with all six in her fist.

His door was the last one on the left.

She knocked once and did not wait.

Hayden opened it in an undershirt and sleep trousers, with the light behind him.

He looked at her face, then at the envelopes.

"You read them."

"I read two."

Her voice was not steady.

"You wrote that you stood outside my office in the rain on the day I left and couldn't make yourself come in."

"I did stand there."

"For how long?"

"Until the guard asked if I was lost."

A sound came out of her that was half a laugh.

"Three years I thought you didn't care enough to even try."

"I wrote on the first of every month," Hayden said. "I gave each one to her myself."

"That's thirty-six months."

"Yes."

"Thirty-six letters, Hayden, and I got six."

He took the envelopes from her hand, slowly, and set them on the table by the door.

Then he looked at her again.

"I don't know where the rest are."

"I know," she said. "Neither do I."

The air in the doorway had gone thick and warm.

She stepped into his room, and he stepped back to let her in.

The door swung closed behind her.

"You said keep your hands to yourself," Hayden said.

"I did."

"I'm keeping them."

His hands hung at his sides, balled up tight.

He was shaking.

She put her palm flat on his chest, over the chain.

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