I smile, say nothing. But then I say, “You know, Chip, I have a lot of vacation time due me. I thought maybe I’d take a few days. Would you like to go somewhere with me? We could … I have a free weekend at the Four Seasons in Boston. Mrs. Peters gave it to me. Would you like to go there?”

“Sure, they’re nice hotels.”

“You’ve stayed there?”

“Oh, yeah. Not in Boston, though.” He closes his eyes, breathes out slowly. Then, “Oh. I meant to tell you. The drain doesn’t wiggle.”

“Pardon?”

“The drain doesn’t turn. On the … thing. The puller.”

“The drain? In the bathtub? What do you mean?”

He opens his eyes. “Never mind. I’m just tired.”

“Okay. You go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” I stand, and he takes my hand. “Stay,” he says. “Just a little bit longer.” He closes his eyes, then opens them to say, “That’s a song. Right?”

I nod. And then I watch him fall asleep. In my chest is the steady tick of my love for him. In the space of a few weeks, I have so quickly gotten used to this, our life together, pretend man and wife. That’s what it is, at least for me. I don’t want to be without it. It would be like going back into a cave. I think, you stay. Or let me come with you. The thought comes unbidden, but naturally. It seems so natural.

Chapter 18

These tomatoes are wonderful,” I tell Marvelous. We are finally having lunch together, and we are both on our second bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich.

“Yeah, my sister knows how to grow them like nobody else. The goddess of tomatoes, that’s what she is. She talks to them every day, and she plays music for them all night long.”

“Really!”

Marvelous nods, wipes mayonnaise from the side of her mouth. “It’s the truth. She puts a transistor radio right out in the middle of the garden every night, plays music for them. Classical. One year a neighbor complained, she called the cops, can you imagine? Never mind people shooting each other’s faces off, call the cops on the woman playing music to her tomatoes. My sister said she’d stop doing it, but she didn’t. She just turned it way down and the plants still heard—in fact, that was her best year so far. So now she always plays it that way, real soft.”

I take the last bite of sandwich. “Delicious. Thank you.”

“How ’bout another one?”

“Oh, no, Marvelous. I’m stuffed. But I’ll sit here with you if you want another one.”

“I’m full, too.” She leans back, pats her belly, smiles her wonderful smile.

“You look great, Marvelous. You must be feeling well.”

“I am, I’m feeling good, honey. But not you.”

Reflexively, my hand goes to my chest. “Me?”