‘But when I came out I was a lot wealthier than when I went in. They never checked the house in Palm Springs as it was owned by an offshore company and untraceable to me, anyways my husband had been working away on our investments. A criminal bond, if you like, bound by marriage. Clever, eh? In the end, I felt I had won, achieved something, after the depths of shit I had swum in.’

As if to bring her story to a close in her own mind, at least, she summed up with –

‘So you see Ever…’

That was the first time she had called him by his name.

‘I had quite a time of it.’

There was a long silence, Ever’s closed eyes made her realise that she had probably lost him even earlier than she thought, and she wondered if in fact he would remember anything at all by morning.

Then out of the blue as if he had been with the whole process, in the true state of a manic depressive anxiety crash, his egocentricity produced words.

‘I must go to the doctor.’

She thought she had done some good, imagining his desire to visit a doctor to be the result of a responsible decision to deal with his own mental state. She wasn’t aware of his real reason, that it was about the time for his test – his STI test.

Maybe he was aware, in his half-dream, of his desire to return to the land of the male again. And that had turned into concern still active through sleep.

Along with the gun. That and the Basquiat exhibition.

‘Will you come with me? Please. To the Basquiat exhibition?’

She realised her life story had held no significance for Ever, in this mode of self-centredness that had dragged him out of his sleep; but she wondered if it might implant itself at a later date.

It was dark now. She suggested he rest. He asked if he could have one of those calmers, as he called them. On her return with the medication, feeling truly like a nurse, she asked if he wanted her to turn off the light.

‘The main light, yes please, but I would like to leave the bedside one on. If that’s OK?’

Thinking of the pale blue swollen hand.

*

Before she closed the door, although his eyes were closed, she said,

‘I’ll come, but you’ll have to wheel me around, I can’t walk around an exhibition. And we’ll have to have an agreement. I’ll tell you tomorrow. I’m tired.’

The agreement was not something she was sure how to propose.