“You’ll leave soon anyway, so it won’t matter.” Heidi took the cat from Cliff and went into the kitchen, where she used her free hand to fill a bowl with half-and-half.

Cliff followed after, alarmed that she had read his thoughts. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not as dumb as you might think. I can tell you don’t like it here.”

“That’s not true,” Cliff said. “But, while we’re on the subject, there are some things you haven’t told me.”

“What have I not told you?”

“About your husband.”

“And what does my husband have to do with anything?”

“Well,” Cliff began. “He killed himself.”

Heidi’s eyes, usually tired, were now awake with anger. “Has it been a problem, that he killed himself? Has it somehow affected your lifestyle here?”

“He lived in my room,” Cliff said.

“Well, he certainly doesn’t anymore.”

He could tell he was upsetting her. He didn’t want to, but he kept on. He had a point to make. “It’s just something I would have liked to know upfront. So I could have understood your situation.”

“And what is my situation?”

“You’re mourning,” he said. “You’re a widow and you’re in mourning.”

“A widow,” she said, as if testing the word, how it felt on her tongue. “I’m a widow. Well, that explains everything.” She bent down and petted the kitten, which was now lapping up the cream. “Actually, what does that explain?” She stood again and faced him. “What does that mean—that I’m a widow? Am I a leper now? Are you worried I’ll infect you? That the house will infect you?”

“You wanted me to sleep with you,” he said, embarrassed to say it out loud.

“It was a mistake, and I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable. I can promise it won’t happen again.”

They looked at each other, acknowledging how far their conversation had strayed. “The thing is, I’m quite lonely myself,” Cliff said. He did not mean to say it, but there it was.

There was a pause, in which Heidi allowed herself a smile. The smile seemed both miraculous and ominous, like the resurrection of something dead—a postmortem twitch of muscle. Then, without warning, the smile was gone, and Heidi put her face into her hands. She crumpled to the floor, startling the cat so that it pounced from the kitchen and out of sight.

Cliff stooped down and put his arm around her, making sure he did not squeeze so tightly that his intentions would be misconstrued. She was shaking. He did not want to be there but he was. He did not want to hold her but he did.

“Please don’t leave me,” she said, her voice soft. “Will you stay? Just for the year? I need noise in the house. That’s all. You don’t have to talk to me. I just want to know that you’re here. That somebody’s here. That somebody . . .” She could not finish her sentence. She was heaving now, trying to catch her breath.