It took me too long to give up on the hope that Marc would come and visit me in the nun’s room again. I only let go of the fantasy after I walked into the bathroom and saw him there with the little chrome bin balanced on the sink. There was something in his hand. He had an expression on his face like someone who had just broken in through the window.

I’d seen that look, the look of a guilty man caught unawares. Maya’s apartment was empty by the time Cameron came by. I’d opened the door and walked in on him.

We’d stood staring at each other.

Cameron moved first. He began to inspect the place while I watched. He touched everything, knocking on walls and running his hand along the windowsills, checking his fingertips for dust.

‘There’s nothing here,’ I finally said.

He came over to the doorway where I stood. He kept walking until he was only an inch or two away. I stepped back, crossed my arms.

‘I was just looking,’ he said. ‘No harm in looking, is there?’

I stared hard at Marc’s hand. I hadn’t emptied the bin in a week. I had wrapped my tampons in toilet paper, tightly, like they were bodies that needed to be shrouded for burial. He hadn’t asked about birth control, so I suppose he was relieved to unroll one of the little packages and see the evidence of his own safety.

I still remember his wide, startled eyes. I can see the little string, brown with old blood, trailing from his closed fist.

A few days before my time in the hills was due to end, I heard a loud noise upstairs. I looked up and so did the baby.

I ran up the stairs. When I got to the top I saw that Marc had reached the nun’s room before I could.

I walked in behind him.

‘Oh my god,’ I said.

The candle I’d bought had exploded. There was broken glass, a spattering of white wax hardening on the floor and walls.

When I came closer I saw that it had left a black shadow in the shape of a small spiny cloud – a cartoonish bang! – on the drawers’ smooth white surface.

Marc didn’t say anything, just ran his fingers back and forth through his hair.

‘I’ll clean this up,’ I said. ‘I’ll pay for any damage.’

‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

He left the room and came back with a plastic bag, and together we picked up the shards of glass.

‘You let it burn down too far,’ he said.

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s fine.’

I let the silence stretch for a moment while we placed smaller and smaller shards of glass into the plastic bag. But then I couldn’t stop myself. I said, ‘I could have burned your house down.’