And then I stop seeing the boy and I see the man with the scar. And the woman with the scar. And I stop shivering. I open my eyes and help him undress, and then he helps me.

I put my fingers to his lips, to the curled cartilege of his ears. I touch the place where they cut his head, move deliberately along that line, as if to finally heal it. I trace the high arch of his cheekbone, the underside of his jaw, his shoulders and chest, his stomach. I reach down and feel his erect self and then take my hand away so that he can move over onto me. And then I open up and let him in.

Once, at the library, I watched two children, a boy and a girl, building a popsicle stick fortress. They did it very slowly, carefully. When it was finished, the boy stood back and said, “No,” and began disassembling it. “What are you doing?” the girl asked, and the boy said, “I got another idea.” He took apart the fortress using the same deliberate care with which he built it. And then he made a road, each narrow stick laid perfectly beside the next. It twisted and turned, but the path was clear, and something about it made you want to go on it.

• • •

I am in the bathtub when I hear Chip call, “Myra, did you read the letter on the desk?”

“No. What does it say?”

A moment, and then I hear him start to open the bathroom door. “Don’t come in!” I say.

“Why not?”

I look down at myself, consider my nakedness. Which he just spent a good forty-five minutes considering.

“Never mind,” I say.

He comes in and leans against the edge of the sink. “Want me to read it to you?”

“Yes.”

He opens the envelope, pulls out a piece of hotel stationery. “Well. We are to have dinner at Aujourd’Hui tomorrow night.”

“Oh, no. This is too much, Chip. Really. I have to tell her no, at some point.”

“It’s not from Mrs. Peters.”

“Who’s it from, then?”

“Me.”

I sit still for a moment, then laugh.

“I mean, I can still charge things.”

“Well, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He sits on the edge of the tub.

“Want to come in?”

“No. I think I’ll maybe just lie down for a while now, okay?”

I start to get out of the tub, but he tells me, “Stay. I’ll be right outside. Just going to take a pain pill, though, so if I’m asleep when you come out, don’t be offended.”

“I won’t.”

He closes the door, and I lean back in the tub and close my eyes. And I had been thinking we’d just keep going, check out of the hotel in a couple of days and take a trip somewhere else.