neck.
I left the mail. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s keep these meetings running on time.”
I had to enjoy this while I could, since it was such a tenuous arrangement, dependent on the whims of his wife. He was not in the game of pushing her to notice what he was doing. If she seemed particularly attentive for a few days, or asked an extra question or two, I always knew it. He’d become remote, our conversations as chaste as if I were a student in his poetry class.
All that would have to happen to end it was for that detachment to last a little longer than usual, an extra week or two in which she happened to be affectionate or needy, and that would be it. Our relationshipwas a temperamental little pet, some delicate, vivid tropical creature blinking at us inside its glass tank, requiring precisely calibrated humidity and temperature and food in tiny frequent doses and lots of pure water. No loud noises, no startling prods of its scaly belly.
three
O N FRIDAY, DAY TWO , I arrived and found Kate lying beneath a quilt on her bed. Evan was in the easy chair. She smiled at me and mouthed what I guessed was “Good morning.”
“Hi, Kate. Hey, Evan.”
“Morning,” Evan said. “I’m not here.”
“And yet?”
He smiled. “And yet I am, if you need me, but we thought we’d let you take over today and I’ll just be backup. I’m sure you remember what I did yesterday, and if you don’t Kate can tell you.” He snapped open the real estate section of the newspaper. “Is that all right?”
“No problem,” I said. I turned to Kate.
“Okay,” she said. She glanced at the remote as I went to her side of the bed, and I took it from her and set it on the table.
Her nightgown was ivory with thick lace straps and a plain bodice, from what I could see above the quilt. The room was a little too warm for a quilt. I wondered if she was ever too hot or too cold during the periods when she was alone. She wouldn’t be able to do anything about it—just wait.
I brought her chair over next to the bed and lifted her arms by the wrists while I pushed the quilt aside. Her skin was cool and dry, and I kept my fingers wrapped around the knobby bones of her wrist, thinking that this was the first time I had touched her. The white silk gleamed at the crest of her hip bones and the swell of her breasts. Her collarbone was a sharp ledge; when she swallowed the movement fluttered at the dip in her throat. I’d laid her arms at her sides when I removedthe quilt, and there was something so acquiescent about her, her blond hair and white silk, neat as a doll.
I took a deep breath and planned how I would do this. When I watched Evan lift Kate, it seemed almost elegant: pull-and-turn, bend at the knees, and then stand up. I started by taking hold of her ankles and pulling her feet over the edge of the mattress, and then I brought her into a sitting position by her wrists. Her head dropped forward, her hair falling in two sheets around her face. But her feet didn’t end up neatly on the ground like they were supposed to. Instead her knees were curved coyly to one side, and I tried to hold her upright while I aligned her. Evan crossed one ankle over his knee, then shifted again. Our eyes met and I looked away. He opened his newspaper. He could probably do this with his eyes closed, and he had to mind seeing his wife tugged around by some college student. I was working in silence, refusing to meet Kate’s eyes in case she tried to talk to me.
My hair fell into my eyes and I swiped it away. I wanted to ask him to open a window.
I placed my hands beneath Kate’s arms and stood, lifting her. But then, anxious to set her down, I lowered her into the wheelchair too fast, and left her sitting awkwardly on one buttock, leaning against the arm. Then I tripped over the footrest.
Kate said something.
“I’m sorry,” I said. I watched her closely as she dipped her head to swallow and repeated herself. Evan watched over the corner of
I left the mail. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s keep these meetings running on time.”
I had to enjoy this while I could, since it was such a tenuous arrangement, dependent on the whims of his wife. He was not in the game of pushing her to notice what he was doing. If she seemed particularly attentive for a few days, or asked an extra question or two, I always knew it. He’d become remote, our conversations as chaste as if I were a student in his poetry class.
All that would have to happen to end it was for that detachment to last a little longer than usual, an extra week or two in which she happened to be affectionate or needy, and that would be it. Our relationshipwas a temperamental little pet, some delicate, vivid tropical creature blinking at us inside its glass tank, requiring precisely calibrated humidity and temperature and food in tiny frequent doses and lots of pure water. No loud noises, no startling prods of its scaly belly.
three
O N FRIDAY, DAY TWO , I arrived and found Kate lying beneath a quilt on her bed. Evan was in the easy chair. She smiled at me and mouthed what I guessed was “Good morning.”
“Hi, Kate. Hey, Evan.”
“Morning,” Evan said. “I’m not here.”
“And yet?”
He smiled. “And yet I am, if you need me, but we thought we’d let you take over today and I’ll just be backup. I’m sure you remember what I did yesterday, and if you don’t Kate can tell you.” He snapped open the real estate section of the newspaper. “Is that all right?”
“No problem,” I said. I turned to Kate.
“Okay,” she said. She glanced at the remote as I went to her side of the bed, and I took it from her and set it on the table.
Her nightgown was ivory with thick lace straps and a plain bodice, from what I could see above the quilt. The room was a little too warm for a quilt. I wondered if she was ever too hot or too cold during the periods when she was alone. She wouldn’t be able to do anything about it—just wait.
I brought her chair over next to the bed and lifted her arms by the wrists while I pushed the quilt aside. Her skin was cool and dry, and I kept my fingers wrapped around the knobby bones of her wrist, thinking that this was the first time I had touched her. The white silk gleamed at the crest of her hip bones and the swell of her breasts. Her collarbone was a sharp ledge; when she swallowed the movement fluttered at the dip in her throat. I’d laid her arms at her sides when I removedthe quilt, and there was something so acquiescent about her, her blond hair and white silk, neat as a doll.
I took a deep breath and planned how I would do this. When I watched Evan lift Kate, it seemed almost elegant: pull-and-turn, bend at the knees, and then stand up. I started by taking hold of her ankles and pulling her feet over the edge of the mattress, and then I brought her into a sitting position by her wrists. Her head dropped forward, her hair falling in two sheets around her face. But her feet didn’t end up neatly on the ground like they were supposed to. Instead her knees were curved coyly to one side, and I tried to hold her upright while I aligned her. Evan crossed one ankle over his knee, then shifted again. Our eyes met and I looked away. He opened his newspaper. He could probably do this with his eyes closed, and he had to mind seeing his wife tugged around by some college student. I was working in silence, refusing to meet Kate’s eyes in case she tried to talk to me.
My hair fell into my eyes and I swiped it away. I wanted to ask him to open a window.
I placed my hands beneath Kate’s arms and stood, lifting her. But then, anxious to set her down, I lowered her into the wheelchair too fast, and left her sitting awkwardly on one buttock, leaning against the arm. Then I tripped over the footrest.
Kate said something.
“I’m sorry,” I said. I watched her closely as she dipped her head to swallow and repeated herself. Evan watched over the corner of
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