Michael's Arc

Chapter 8 of 9

Michael kept stirring the pot. Haydon's shoulder stayed against his sleeve. The kitchen smelled like garlic and butter and something green she had chopped while he watched her hands. "Taste," she said. She lifted the spoon out of his grip, blew on it once, and held it near his mouth. He opened. The sauce was sharp and warm. Her eyes stayed on his mouth while he swallowed. "Good," he said. "I know." She turned the burner off. She did not step away. He set the spoon on the rest and turned so they were facing each other in the narrow space between the stove and the counter. She had to tip her chin up to keep his eyes. "Dinner," he said. "Dinner," she agreed. They ate at her small table. She had set two places with real napkins and a candle in a glass. He could not remember what was on his plate ten minutes later. She asked him a question about the book on her shelf and he answered while her bare foot found his ankle under the table and stayed there. He put his fork down. She put hers down a second after. "Michael." "Yeah." "Come here." He stood. She stood. They met halfway around the table. He put one hand at her waist through the thin dress and the other at the back of her neck under her hair. He kissed her. She kissed him back, careful for one second and then not careful at all. Her glasses bumped his. She laughed against his mouth and pulled them off and set them on the table without looking. "The suit," she said, "is coming off." "Okay." She took his hand and led him out of the kitchen. The hall was dark. She did not turn on a light. She stopped at a door he had not been through before and pushed it open with her shoulder. Her bedroom. A wooden bed with a blue cover pulled tight. Two pillows. A lamp she switched on low. She turned in the doorway and put both hands flat on his lapels. She looked up at him with her glasses off and her hair loose and every calm thing about her set aside. "I planned this," she said. "In case you were wondering." "I wasn't wondering." "Good." He kissed her again. She stepped backward and he followed. The backs of her knees hit the edge of the mattress and she sat, then lay back, and pulled him down after her. The jacket came off first. Then his shirt. Then her hand found the zipper at the side of the black dress. After, he lay on his back in her bed with her head on his shoulder and her hand flat on his chest. The lamp was still on. She was quiet in a way that was new. Then she said, without moving, "You should know something before Wednesday." He waited. She did not go on.