Chapter 12: The Fine

Victor stood on the roof and said nothing for so long that I heard the traffic in the street below.

I had just told him the one thing I had never told anyone.

I'd braced for a lot of replies.

I hadn't braced for his face, which went through three expressions and settled on terror.

"Seven years," he said.

"Seven years."

"That's longer than most of my leases."

"A dollar," I said.

"I'm sorry. It's a reflex. I get a little loud in my head."

"You're getting loud in your mouth."

"That's two dollars. I'm aware. I'm going to need to be looked after."

"It's a hundred," I said.

"A hundred dollars?"

"It's a fine, not a fee. It goes up when you're scared."

He stared at me.

Then he laughed, helplessly, with his hand over his eyes.

"I have twenty dollars in your jar," he said.

"Then you owe eighty."

"Put it on my account."

"Victor."

"I know."

The laugh went out of his face.

"No one has ever said that to me," he said. "I don't know what to do with my hands."

I looked at his hands.

They were hanging at his sides, empty, and one of them was shaking.

I did the thing I had planned to write three options about.

I stepped in, took him by the lapels of his blue jacket and pulled him down to me.

He made a sound against my mouth that I felt in my knees.

For one second he stood perfectly still, and I thought: he's going to say paper only.

Then his hands came up.

One slid into my hair, and the other pressed flat against the small of my back.

He kissed me back.

It was slow at first, and I held on to his jacket and kissed him until I was breathing his breath.

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