She predicted her death flippantly to Lucy, so that in case it actually did happen, at least someone close to her would know that she knew. She didn’t want them to think she was one of those putzes who died unwittingly. She could hear Lucy telling people, “She predicted it—she knew somehow. What a talent.”

Gazing at him now across the abyss, she felt as though she was somehow displaced, but she realized now that she’d always felt that way. She’d thought she felt that way because it was true. Now she saw she felt that way because it was her.

She moved out of bed carefully, so as not to disturb Jesse. He stirred and opened his eyes. “Was it something I said?” he asked groggily.

“You’re suffocating me,” she whispered lovingly. On the way to the bathroom she had an idea. She’d make Jesse some waffles. Waffles and muffins and bacon and . . . That was probably enough. Oh, and orange juice and coffee. Coffee with cinnamon in it.

Maybe she shouldn’t make waffles, though. Her slapstick tendencies had a habit of rearing their ugly heads during waffle preparation. Still, she wanted to do something nice for him. She’d been staring at him for half an hour, and now she’d sort of woken him up . . . All in all, she felt she owed him waffles. That big waffle gesture was the only one that would do. She smiled at her reflection, filled with the enthusiasm of bold resolve.

Twenty minutes later, on the way to the hospital, Jesse said, “But why waffles? I don’t even really like waffles.”

“Look,” said Suzanne stoically. “It’s already starting to blister.” She held up her left hand, with its domestic scar across the knuckles where the waffle iron had landed.

He shook his head in bewilderment and patted Suzanne’s head. “Isn’t this the emergency room where . . . they know you?”

“Yes,” she said, smiling slightly. “I should open a house account there.”

“They should at least give you a quantity discount,” he said, heading south onto La Cienega. “What was the last thing? The dog bite?”

“The dog bite,” she said cheerfully. “Unless you count the time I had to take Lucy to have her IUD removed.” She held out her hand to him. “It hurts,” she said, with some surprise.

“You’re a brave girl.”

“Soul,” she corrected him. “I’m a brave soul.” She sighed. “This is what I get for trying to be the cooking half of a couple.”

“Gail, don’t be dramatic,” Jesse said. “You’ve made meat loaf and spaghetti several times without incident.”

She was quiet for a few moments, then asked meekly, “Don’t you have your dudefest tonight?”

“You mean am I leaving you alone with your hand tonight?” he said. “No, Gail, I’m staying with you.”

“Oh, goody,” said Suzanne maturely.

Epilogue

DEAR DR. BLAU,