The girl and I both jolt back at the abruptness.

“What’s your problem, then?” she asks him. “I know it’s a touchy time, but no need to be so rude.”

“Nothing at all,” he says.

“Can I get food too?” she asks.

“No.”

“Why’s she get it then?” she complains.

“She forgot to eat.”

“I didn’t forget to eat, I—” I interject, but they ignore me.

“Oy, come on, Cillian, just a bit! Enough for a wee mouse.”

He looks away, shaking his head, and then goes off.

“Yes,” says the girl. “I knew he’d cave.”

He’s made me a grilled cheese and tomato soup. One of my all-time favorite comfort meals. One I haven’t had in as long as I can remember.

I’m starting to think I fell asleep in the cab and never woke up. Like I’m in a dreamworld. Or dead.

“To be fair,” says the girl, “it is a bit mean of you, showing up here, no?”

“Mean?”

“I can never keep up.” She reaches over and takes one half of my sandwich, has a big bite, and puts it back on my plate. “Are you pretending you’re friends today, sleeping together today, or pretending you hate each other today? Last I heard it was…” She dragged her thumb across her throat.

He returns then, plopping down a plate. It’s a wedge of white cheese and a butter knife stuck in it. “For a wee mouse.”

“She gets a whole meal, and you give me this?” she asks.

“I can take it away, Kiera,” he says.

“No, no, I’ll take it.” She protects the plate. “It’s that class cheese, hey.”

I down some water. Feeling confused is a common symptom of dehydration. One time, in Palm Springs, I was so dehydrated I could hardly understand the words everyone was speaking around me. They all sounded like they were far away, trapped in a well somewhere. That must be what’s happening now, because everything feels unknowably off.

I take a few more huge gulps of water. I’m hesitant to eat the sandwich. I’m conditioned by years of withholding food like this from myself.

I gather the nerve, take a big bite, and oh my God.

It’s unbelievable. One of the best things I’ve ever eaten. “Wow. Wow, this is good,” I say with my mouth full.

“I know, he makes the best,” says Kiera. “But of course, I must still act like it’s shite to his face. All right, I’ve got to run. I texted Nial. I know, I know what you’re thinking, I know I shouldn’t have, but honestly, if I don’t have sex soon, I think my legs will glue together like Ariel and I’ll be stuck like that.” She stands, folding the cheese into a napkin and putting it in her purse. “Talk tomorrow, Meggie, love ya.”