Marvalyn heard the truth Steve was speaking. And it paralyzed her for a moment. “Yeah, well…,” she began—and didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

“You know what?” Steve added, building a case. “I don’t think that’s love, what you and your boyfriend have.”

“Yeah, well, you know what?” Marvalyn tried to put a stop to Steve’s line of reasoning and then tried to refute his assertion—but couldn’t. And just said, “I have to go. I’ve been down here longer than I should have been and he’s gonna wonder where I am, and he doesn’t like it when he doesn’t know where I am.”

“Who?”

“Eric.”

“Your boyfriend.”

“Yup.”

“Who you love a lot.”

“Yes.”

“Even though you just kissed me.”

“Um … yup.” Marvalyn felt really bad that she had kissed Steve. But that kiss had felt so good. Because it was the kind of kiss that a girl who had a marvelous life would give to her marvelous boyfriend on a Friday night.

“Wow,” said Steve, “I’m going to have to talk to my brother Rob about this—”

“No! Don’t talk to your brother Rob about this!” There was a rule at Ma Dudley’s about fraternizing among tenants. And what Marvalyn had done to Steve would definitely have qualified as fraternizing. And Marvalyn didn’t need anyone to know that she had been fraternizing with Steve. So she started to go, but stopped—because the almost-nurse in her felt compelled to help her almost-patient. “And do me a favor: tell your brother to stop teaching you. ’Cause whatever he’s teaching you … isn’t something you wanna know.”

“But I have to learn from him—”

“Look, I was gonna be a nurse, so I know: you need help. Your brother shouldn’t be reading … whatever it is he reads. And he shouldn’t be telling you that you have a lot of deficiencies and not very many capacities.” Marvalyn had been told the same thing—but with different words—too often lately. And she didn’t appreciate being told that. “And he shouldn’t be—I don’t know—deciding—for you—all the things he’s deciding for you.”

“Huh?”

“You know what, I gotta go.”

“Right. You gotta go. You’re leaving. I knew you would. That’s what people do.”

“I’m sorry, but I told you, Eric doesn’t know where I am—”

“Your boyfriend?”

“Yes, my boyfriend. I’ve told you that ten times.”

“No you haven’t. You’ve only told me three times.” This was true. Steve had counted.

“Okay, well, I’ve told you three times that Eric is my boyfriend, and I’ve told you I don’t know how many times that he doesn’t like it when he doesn’t know where I am, and he doesn’t know where I am, so I need to go.” Marvalyn started to leave again but realized that she had forgotten to put the ironing board away—which Steve had used last when he clocked her in the head with it. And Ma Dudley had a rule about leaving the laundry room as you found it. And Marvalyn was a rule follower, so she dropped her laundry basket and picked up the ironing board. And it sprang open as she did so, because it hadn’t been closed fully. And she struggled to close it again.