“Okay.” He handed her the glass of oil with a straw. He also had an open bottle of Coke handy. “Drink it quick, and try not to let it touch your lips. If you get nauseous, sip some Coke. It will take the taste of the oil away. Plus Coke has something in it that suppresses nausea.”

She sniffed the oil. “Will this turn me into an Italian?”

“A pizza. Drink it, don’t think.”

She drank it down in several tortured gulps. She kept signaling for the Coke. His mother had used to do the same thing. Kathy gagged when she gave him the empty glass back. “That was awful,” she swore.

“The lemon juice goes down much easier.” He handed her the glass. “Just get it over with.”

She made another face and swallowed the bitter drink. “Jesus Christ!” she said, and winced like, well, she had just drank a pint of lemon juice. “Did you just make up this formula or what?”

“I give it to all my girls. It makes them horny.” He took away the glasses—put them in the kitchen—then eased her onto her right side. “Now try to sleep. I’ll lower the light.”

“Don’t turn it off.” She refused to let go of his hand. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t leave you. I’ll stay here all night if you want.”

“Good.” She closed her eyes. “This stuff feels weird in my stomach.”

“Do you need another pill?”

“I don’t know what I need,” she mumbled.

She began to doze. He sat on the floor near her head and continued to hold her hand. There was an interesting program on TV—a CSI rerun—about a murderer who pretended to be a judge during the day. It was informative, all the new high-tech methods criminologists had at their disposal to catch killers. Matt wished to God Amy would stop talking about whacking David.

Kathy fell into a deep sleep and he turned off the TV and the light. He sat in a chair by the couch, and the darkness enveloped him with strange warmth. The sound of her breathing was a lullaby in the night. It struck him then how much he cared for Kathy, and how different the feeling was from his love for Amy. The truth of the matter was his attachment and love for Amy were so intertwined, it was hard to tell if the former was not merely giving rise to the latter. The question was old—what was love? Whatever it was, he suspected obsession had nothing to do with it. Yet the realization did nothing to blunt his fixation. Even now, concerned for Kathy, he was still haunted by Amy.

What was she doing right now with David?

Kathy awoke four hours later in horrible pain.