Leslie is an early-morning person. It takes me a couple hours to fall asleep. Even then, I’m in and out of it. My sleep cycle is damaged. We don’t sleep together often enough for me to get used to all the damn noise she makes while getting ready for work. The light seeping through the open master bathroom door is enough to wake me. She uses an electric toothbrush, and the vibrating sound gets into your head like cicadas.

There’s no place for silence anymore. You can stuff your ears with top-of-the-line earplugs, and the noise’ll still find its way in. Or maybe it’s always been there.

I try to avoid using first thing in the morning, especially when I’m with Leslie. I could probably sneak a bump while she’s in the bathroom, but I don’t want to get into that routine. Even home alone, I control the urge until after my morning grapefruit and coffee—sometimes even through lunch.

Leslie walks into the bedroom. She’s wearing black bikini underwear. I pretend to be sleeping, manage to use the covers for concealment. She bends slightly to open a top dresser drawer, finds a bra, and puts it on. Damn. What the hell did I do to deserve someone like her?

I pretend I’m just waking up.

“You can sleep in if you want. Just lock the door from the inside.”

“No. You should always double-lock it.”

“I have an extra key somewhere. The kitchen, I think.”

“Sure we’re ready for that?” I ask with my best smile.

“Not if I come home one evening and find you lounging on my sofa.”

“Uninvited? Don’t you worry. I’m not creepy that way.”

“I know. That’s why I’ll give you a key. And no, it doesn’t mean anything more.”

It’s a step in the right direction is what I want to say. Instead, “There’s still responsibility attached to it.”

“Be responsible, then.”

I slip my underwear on, then my socks, head to the bathroom to take a piss. I close the door, and after I piss I flush the toilet to muffle the sound of blowing my nose. Hard. The usual thick greenish-yellow mucus mixed with a bit of blood plops out and into the tissue. Like expelling a lump of crusty Jell-O. I flush that, too.

“Are you all right?” I hear her ask from behind the door.

“Damn sinus infection again. It comes with the weather.”

“Then you’ll need antibiotics.”

“It’s not that bad yet.”

I wash my hands and splash cold water on my face and in my nostrils.

Back in the bedroom.

She’s fully dressed now.

“You want coffee?” she asks.

“Sure.”

I get dressed, and she offers me a cup. We sit and drink our coffee quietly.