Standing up, Yuri winced against a momentary pulsating pain in his temples. He shivered through a fleeting wave of nausea that made him quickly close the cover of the cold, half-eaten pizza on the coffee table. Its congealed surface looked disgusting.

Yuri was exhausted and felt miserable. He drained off the residue of vodka in his tumbler and collected his thoughts. He had to do something. He couldn’t wait any longer for Connie to request her dessert.

Outside her door he paused for a moment. He debated whether to knock or just open it as he usually did on the rare occasions he went into her room. In the end, he just opened the door.

Connie looked away from the classic movie she was watching and glanced briefly at Yuri. Her left eye was even more swollen than before. At the side of her bed was the open and empty pizza box.

“What about your ice cream?” Yuri said in a gravelly voice.

“Are you still up?” Connie questioned. “What’s the matter? Are you sick?”

“Just tired.”

“I thought you’d gone to bed.”

“I fell asleep on the couch,” Yuri said. “How about that ice cream?”

“You’re like a dog with a bone about this ice cream,” Connie said. “Besides, it’s pretty late. I was about to fall asleep myself.”

“Come on,” Yuri urged. “You made me buy it from the take-out place.”

“Are you sure you’re not sick?” Connie asked again. “You’re making me worried the way you’re acting.”

“God damn it!” Yuri yelled, losing patience. “I told you, I felt guilty after hitting you and smashing your TV. I’m trying to do something nice, but you won’t even let me do that.”

“Now you’re sounding more like yourself,” Connie said. “Fine! Bring the ice cream if it’ll make you feel better! And you can take this pizza box while you’re at it.”

Relieved but still exasperated, Yuri snatched up the empty box and carried it back to the kitchen. He took the ice cream out of the freezer. From a drawer he got a spoon. He carried both back into Connie’s room and handed them to her.

Straining under her own weight, Connie worked her way up to a semi-sitting position and took the ice cream and spoon.

“This container has been opened,” she said. She looked up at Yuri for an explanation.

“I tried a taste earlier,” Yuri lied.

Connie let out a huff. “You didn’t ask me,” she complained.

Yuri didn’t respond. He was eyeing the phone next to Connie’s bed. He hadn’t thought of the possibility of her calling someone to describe her soon-to-arrive initial symptoms, provided she ate the ice cream. Anxious that she not reach a doctor, Yuri had to do something about the phone.

“I’m talking to you,” Connie persisted. “You know I don’t like people eating my food.”