“That’s not true,” she said, and for a second, I wanted her to explain to me how it wasn’t, for who else was there? But I didn’t ask, because I wanted to believe her, if only by extension of her own thinking, however feeble it might be.

“I wish I wasn’t the person I am half the time. But I always realize what a fuck-up I am in the end. I always do.”

“I know.”

“Please don’t leave me alone,” I whispered, feeling myself tear up.

“I’m not going to,” she said with hints of exasperation. This was a conversation she didn’t particularly care for, and who could blame her?

“Please don’t be impatient with me right now,” I said, and then swiped a tear from the corner of my eye and massaged it dry between my fingers. “I’m sorry, okay? You’re all I have, and I know you deserve better.”

“Stratton, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?”

“Yes, I promise. I’d never leave you alone. And besides, it’s me we’re talking about here. Cute and lovely little me. You shouldn’t be mean to me. I’m your laaaady, remember?” she said, drawing out the word in the adorable way she sometimes did.

She then reached over and wrapped her fingers around my foot. Her hand felt warm and lovely and the feel of it made me realize I had to end the self-pity and neediness. Nothing good was coming from either, as nothing good ever does.

“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling somewhat embarrassed after a minute or two of silence.

“It’s okay,” she replied.

2

The next day, on Thursday, Carolyn worked the early shift. She kissed me on the cheek before leaving and I hugged her good-bye. I wasn’t tired but didn’t feel like getting up, and so I stayed in bed. I climbed out at ten to urinate, climbed right back in. Thomas lay with me, but after a while, even he had had enough and sat at the window instead. At noon Carolyn called and I was still there. I talked to her for three minutes. She asked if the mail had come and I told her no, then hung up. I didn’t feel like reading, certainly didn’t feel like writing. It had been four days since I had left the apartment. I just lay in bed, awake, sometimes with my eyes open, sometimes with them closed. I didn’t even bother turning on the television. When the mail came I didn’t check it. Nor did I care about what I may or may not have gotten through email.

Carolyn came home at three. She looked tired and in an altogether sour mood.

“Have you been in bed all day?” she asked.

“No.”

“What did you do?”

“Lie in bed.”

“All day?”

“I got up to go to the bathroom a few times.”