Earnest by Kristin von Kreisler Page B

the night and keep measuring his oxygen saturation. He’ll be getting oxygen support through his nose.”
    â€œWhen can he breathe on his own?”
    â€œTomorrow, we hope.”
    â€œDid you x-ray his lungs?”
    â€œNot yet. He seemed too stressed. We decided to wait till morning.” Dr. Nilsen rubbed his tired eyes. “For now we’ve given him pain meds and a steroid shot in case his lungs are inflamed.”
    â€œWill he be okay?” The ever-haunting question.
    â€œWe hope so,” Dr. Nilsen said. “I explained everything to Jeff. He can fill you in when you get home.”
    If you only knew . On the way through the parking lot to Vincent, hurt and worry clawed for supremacy in Anna’s stomach. Then irritation at Jeff reared its head and joined the fray.

C HAPTER 8
    J eff was ripping up romaine lettuce in the kitchen when Anna unlocked the condo’s door and crossed the tile entry. “Hi, Anna,” he called. “I’m making us a salad.”
    No response.
    Jeff kept ripping as she went into the bedroom and closed the door. When he’d half filled the wooden salad bowl, their first purchase as a couple, he cut a tomato into the small pieces Anna liked and tossed them in. He peeled and sliced a cucumber. “Anna?” he tried again. “Do you want Thousand Island dressing? Or Italian?”
    More silence—until finally she muttered, “I’ll make my own salad.”
    That’s a start. Hope springs eternal . At least Anna had acknowledged Jeff ’s existence. He set two straw placemats on their round butcher block table and added napkins, forks, and knives in case he could lure her to dinner. “I’ll broil chicken,” he called.
    This time without a moment’s hesitation, she said, “Don’t bother. None for me.”
    â€œCome on, Anna.” Jeff started toward the bedroom to try to coax some reason into her. “You’ve had a hard day. I’m trying to make you a decent meal. We need to talk.”
    â€œThe only thing I want to talk with you about is who’s moving to another place.”
    â€œYou won’t talk about Earnest?”
    â€œWith Dr. Nilsen, not you.”
    Jeff opened the bedroom door.
    â€œI really need my space right now. If you come in here, I’m leaving,” Anna said.
    â€œIf you leave, how can we talk about who’s moving?”
    â€œOkay, talk.” Clearly intending to stay as far as possible from Jeff, Anna backed up against his blue upholstered club chair in the room’s farthest corner.
    â€œYou don’t have to worry. I’m not carrying the Ebola virus,” Jeff said.
    Anna replied with a frown. Usually, she smiled even if she didn’t mean to. It was her nature—she couldn’t help herself. Her lips turned up of their own accord.
    But not tonight.
    â€œAre you moving out, or should I?” she asked.
    â€œI hate for either of us to leave here. If you’ll just listen to me for a minute, you’ll change your mind.”
    â€œI don’t think I’ll ever change my mind.”
    â€œLook. I have the best intentions for my project. I want you to be glad about it.”
    â€œAre you moving to another place, or should I?” she repeated.
    Jeff held up his palms toward her, a signal of surrender. Go along to get along. Anna needed time to calm down. He wouldn’t press her now. “If you’re sure you want me to move, I’ll do it.”
    â€œWhen?”
    You don’t have to be in such a hurry. “I’ll look for a place tomorrow.”
    Without a “good,” “fine,” or “thanks,” Anna walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. The lock’s click said, Good-bye.

    At the kitchen table, Jeff crunched his romaine. The noise echoed through the silent room and made him feel lonely. Being alienated from Anna was awful enough, but the condo felt even