I don’t know what time it was when Lonnie stirred. Her body jolted and I heard her exhale. I closed my eyes, embarrassed to still be fully conscious, but I felt her sit up, the blankets rustling around her legs. When she grabbed me by the shoulder, mumbling, “Let’s keep this between you and me,” I opened my eyes to see her gripping the silky edge of the blanket, her eyes large and blank, roaming a room we were not in. I realized she wasn’t awake at all. A moment later, she wilted back down, her face landing even closer to mine on our shared pillow—the warm wet air from her half-open mouth smelling of sour wine.

Only when dawn broke, the pink sun seeping through the breathing windowpane, and Lonnie rose for a glass of water in the kitchen, did I finally nod off for a couple hours, my head aching, my muscles weary from struggling to stay motionless so long.

MY BODY SOMEHOW NEVER FELT TIRED AFTER THAT SLEEPLESS night. I played with William all day, and planned an elaborate dinner, stretching pizza dough on the counter. I liked the cocoon Lonnie and I had wrapped ourselves up in. I couldn’t wait for her to come back from the studio.

What was she actually doing out there anyway? She hadn’t brought her computer at all, just a pile of books and a cheap spiral notebook I’d never seen before. I didn’t really view Lonnie’s writing career with any seriousness. Since I knew we were here because of her father, since she rarely worked at home, since I hadn’t been able to find a single publication online, since she’d said to me in the bathroom when she was high, “I don’t ever do anything anymore”—what else could I conclude?

She was late coming in from her studio that evening. I’d had to put William to bed when he started falling asleep in my arms. The sun was setting when I heard the screen door slam, but in fact it wasn’t Lonnie. The waiter from the night before wandered into the kitchen, carrying two brown bags. “Mid-week grocery delivery,” he said, then, noticing my surprise, “Sorry, the door was open.”

“Oh,” I said. “That’s okay, thank you.” I peeked in one of the bags—fresh produce.

“I’m Alex,” he said. “I met you and Elle last night?”

I nodded, remembering that Lonnie had given him my name. “Of course, I remember.”

“Have you been getting good work done?” He glanced at the pizzas on the counter. “Doesn’t look like you’re coming back for dinner tonight.”

“No,” I said. “Just been getting a lot of writing in, you know. Sometimes being social disrupts things.”