“Lewis.”

Fire sat down on the toilet and held his head in his hands, prepared to lie for her if the man came inside and found him. But what could he say? How would he explain being shirtless in her apartment at—what time was it? He’d taken his watch off. He always did while making love as a rebellion against the idea that sex had objective dimensions.

“Oh … what are you doing here?” he heard her say. Her voice was poised between guilt and anger. “Why didn’t you call?”

“I was in the neighborhood … sort of … having some drinks … I think I might have had one too many. So I was wondering if I could stay the night.”

His voice was timid but taut, as if the meekness was taking effort.

Fire finished dressing quickly, but without panic. The man didn’t scare him. But if the man needed a bed, it wouldn’t be right to cause the man to be denied. A drunk driver is a danger to himself and others. And in any event … he just needed to go … to get away from this mix-up and bangarang.

“Who were you having drinks with?” She sounded genuinely curious.

“Why can’t you just open the door?” Lewis snapped.

“I didn’t know we were still speaking to each other. I still haven’t gotten over yesterday, y’know.”

“So we have a petty falling out and it’s come to this, Sylvia? Jesus Christ!”

“Who were you having drinks with? Don’t lie to me.”

“Margaret.”

“I thought so. Oh, you know I hate that bitch. Are you sleeping with her again?”

“Listen, it’s nothing like that. She called me. She’s having some problems. And why can’t you let me in? Do you have company?”

“Don’t be ridiculous … listen … I was only up to get some water. I’m going back to sleep.”

“This is so … Listen, I have some stuff for you …”

“What is it? Can it fit beneath the door?”

“I guess …”

There was a shuffling sound.

“Oh … wow … thank you.” She was deeply touched by whatever it was. But what could it be?

“I heard there was a problem … I found them at the house.”

“Okay. But I’ve got to … go back to bed.”

“Okay … and listen … I’m really sorry about yesterday. You were right. I should have stood up for you. I love you, Sylvia.”

There was silence. Then her voice. Weaker than before.

“Okay … but now’s not a good time for this.”

So this is what it’s all about, Fire thought, as her footsteps drew nearer. She and the man had been fighting.

She knocked at the door. He told her to come in. He was slouched on the edge of the tub, his face as rumpled as his clothes. Redolent of sex and sweat, she leaned against the clothes hamper, clutching the envelope with the receipts. She was wearing a sarong now. Nakedness seemed inappropriate.