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of information," he said.
    "It's
always that way."
    "Vital
information," he said.
    "That
I intended to give you at the right time," she said.
    "Who
are you to decide that?'
    "If
I could speak about the past few days…in real time…what we've shared…do you
regret it?'
    "Knowing
this? We would have known. That's the lie. We would have known if it was
normal…and not this sick game."
    "I
did know," she said. "I knew. And it made it more…not less. That made
it everything."
    "You
used me. This is all about you."
    "I
didn't," she whispered. "I couldn't. You're…I'm in love with
you."
    He
was speechless. He could see the sincerity in her eyes, her voice, her very
posture, hands splayed on the table, one of them moving and resting on his arm.
"I love you," she said again. "How could I not? From the first?"
    He
worked to find his voice. "Have you had…help…since… . "
    "Yes,"
she said quickly. "All kinds. Bombarded…actually."
    "This
is some…unhealthy…."
    "No,"
she shook her head, eyes closing briefly. "It's real. It's more than you
saving Seth, though that was the beginning, but now…it's more."
    "You
need to go," he said standing up. He'd jarred the table, he felt clumsy.
    "Don't
send me away," she said. "I want to be with you."
    "I
don't trust…this," he said, unnerved. "I blame myself…we've been
intense…and physically I know…for women…and you're grieving. This is grief."
He had no idea what he was saying, why he was going on.
    "It's
just one day," she said standing, her fingertips white against the table
where she leaned her weight.
    "Don't…."
    "It
ends in two weeks. It's over then," she asserted.
    "I
have no commitment to this," he said, angry…that he wanted her to convince
him…that he didn't know how he'd stay in this house….
    "But
you are involved," she said. "Just…be involved a little longer."
    "What
do you want from me? I can't encourage this. I'm not irresponsible, or a
complete bastard."
    "Oh…I
know that."
    "You know Alisha
now. I…suppose you'll tell her all about this…and who else? I don't know
you."
    "You
know me. This is us."
    "Us? No us."
    "Right
now is…between us."
    He
shook his head, resisting. "I'm not…I'm not…there could be no more…."
    "Intercourse?"
she said, smiling now, but her eyes sad.
    He
laughed a bit, but no joy, no ease, "No. And besides that endless talk
about…the…your family…see? It can't go anywhere. What's your goal here? What's
the point?"
    "I'll
take anything," she said. "I just want to be with you. We have the
ocean. We have houses and books. We can just be. Two people getting to know
each other."
    They'd
end up sleeping together again. He couldn't encourage her. She said she loved
him. She wasn't stable.
    "I
can't…I need to be alone," he said. "If…I'll think it over. I'll let
you know. I don't want to be cruel. I know you're looking for connection
to…."
    “Let's
make soup."
    "What?"
    "Let's
make soup. I haven't been eating properly, and I know you haven't either."
    He
should say no. End it now. End it. "I…I have steak."
    "Steak
soup?" she smiled. She seemed so normal just then. He couldn't be fooled
by it.
    "Seems
a shame but…. Why not?"
    So
that's what they did. They cooked together. And she told him she'd graduated
Iowa State and they opened a bottle of red wine, and they talked about books
then. He talked mostly. He couldn't shut up. About books. But the words didn't matter so much and when they dwindled there was food. And
when they'd eaten there was the ocean. And when they'd put on coats and walked
some there was the pier and when they walked that and stood on the end, she
took his hand then and he didn't pull away.
    "I
lost my dad," she said softly, and he had to lean in, though he'd heard.
    "He…raised
me. My mother left. I was six. When she came home she was dying. We didn't
know. She didn't know. But she was gone in a year. And…he'd taken care of her. And after that…he said, just you and me, kiddo. He said that
all the