He went up on an elbow and started stroking her hair again. Her restlessness quelled a bit, which in turn made her angry, because becoming dependent on him to keep her from feeling like this, like a stringless kite, had destroyed her once.

Breathe, his hand in her hair said to her.

Breathe, his kaleidoscopic eyes said to himself.

“Listen, Ash, we didn’t get a chance to finish our conversation earlier. I . . . what you said . . . that your mother had never done anything to disprove your opinion of her, I couldn’t stop thinking about that. She is doing something now, isn’t she? She’s here . . . just like—”

“Please don’t.” She couldn’t talk about this right now, and still, somehow, she wanted to tell him everything she had overheard Shobi and Mina Kaki say. Everything about herself she now knew. Everything she had always known that she now had proof of. She wanted to burrow into him, scream it all into the solidity of his chest.

“You’re right. She’s here now.” She stroked his face. “And you are too.” They were both so brave, and how terrible she had been to them. “Everything you see in me, it’s a lie.” Her very existence was an ugliness.

“Everything I see in you is truth, and it’s more beautiful than anything.”

“No, it isn’t.” She sat up. “You don’t understand. That’s not true.”

He pushed himself off the bed and stood, unabashedly naked and so very beautiful. “Can I show you something?” He held out his hand.

“I think I’ve seen everything you want to show me.”

His eyes smiled and he made a beckoning gesture with his hand. “Come on.”

She took it and stood, wrapping a sheet around herself, and followed him, dragging the sheet along as he led her to a huge mirror in the alcove. He positioned her to face her reflection.

Behind her he was a head taller. Wrapping his arms around her, he rested his chin on her head. Their bodies were made to fit together, perfect jigsaw pieces.

Their eyes met in the mirror and there she was. Seeing herself through his eyes, her downfall.

It had made her feel wanton, always. Not a word she’d known to use in high school, but one of the many intangible things she had ached for ever since losing him. He brought out this hot, pulsating spirit inside her, turned all of her into reckless desire. Hair down loose, arms akimbo, breath not held. Ready for anything. Her. The her who had thrown herself at the ball on the pitch. The one who had pushed Rico down on the bed and climbed on top.