Heart the Lover (8)

‘The one article.’

‘Yeah.’

‘How did they keep it so quiet?’

‘I don’t know. Because she was foreign, probably. How did you know her?’

I tell him about the sublet and everything I remember about her. He listens and his face looks like it did while he was sleeping. The grandfather clock strikes three. Sam will likely be home soon. I follow Yash to the kitchen and we wash out the pipes and put them back in their rack.

I want to say more about Cyra but I’ve run out of memories. I barely knew her. ‘Are you religious?’



‘No, I don’t think so. I’m something, but it’s not religious.’

‘Spiritual?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Seeking?’

‘Somewhat. A weak seeker. Not for God or gods, though.’

‘Sam wants me to read The Confessions of Saint Augustine.’

He smiles.

‘You’ve read it.’

‘It’s sort of required reading to be his friend.’

We hear the latch of the gate outside. We move quickly from the study into the living room.

Sam comes in the door.

I’m on the couch, Yash in the chair opposite. I call out a hello and Yash says, ‘We’re in here,’ and neither of us sounds like ourselves.

Sam doesn’t notice.

‘Hey.’ He drops his books on a side table and sits beside me. ‘No one told me how boring Stubbs is.’ He makes a face. ‘It smells weird in here.’ He sniffs me. ‘You smell gross.’

Yash and I look at each other. ‘We tried out the pipes,’ he says.

Sam shakes head. ‘You both reek.’

‘I feel sort of sick,’ I say.



‘Me too.’

‘Children,’ Sam says.

In February Sam and I drive down to his parents’ house outside of Atlanta. They are kind, serious people and though they call him Sam Bam most of the time, they take his life very seriously. I can’t quite believe the attention they give him, the questions not about what classes he’s taking—they already know his whole schedule—but whether he decided to write his take-home essay on Cicero’s ‘De Fato’ or his letters to Brutus, and if he was still having trouble with Hume. His mother has a new pillow for him because he had mentioned a crick a few weeks ago. The crick was from a strange position we’d gotten into, but he doesn’t even give me a side glance as he accepts the gift. Sam’s younger brother and sister barely speak. They behave like the governor has come to lunch. I’m given the guest room off the living room. Sam will sleep upstairs in his old bedroom.

That first afternoon Sam is tired from the drive and says he’s going to go upstairs to take a nap before we go to some neighbors’ for drinks, then on to dinner at a new restaurant nearby. I’m not a napper and I’m definitely not welcome upstairs. I read on my guest bed. At five thirty I stick my head out into the hall that leads to the living room and hear no sounds. I don’t know what time we’re expected for drinks but I start getting ready. I change into a dress and tights and new gray boots I’d gotten for Christmas. I’m putting on a little mascara when there’s a knock and the door swings open.

‘We’ve been waiting for you for a half hour,’ Sam says. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I’ve been waiting for you to come down and get me.’

‘Why didn’t you come out?’

‘I did. No one was around.’

‘Because we were all waiting for you in the foyer.’

‘Well, I’m sorry I didn’t know to look in the foyer.’

When we join the others, I assume Sam will explain the situation. He says nothing.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I say. ‘I didn’t know you were waiting.’

Their smiles are thin and they move quickly to the car.

I feel self-conscious about the mascara. I only put it on because I was bored, waiting for Sam. And they think I’ve held them up deliberately because I was primping.

When his father orders coffee after the meal, I promise him I won’t projectile vomit, but no one laughs.

It’s a bad visit from start to finish.

Back in the car the next day I think we’ll laugh about all the terrible moments, but Sam finds nothing about the visit amusing. He’s angry. He thinks I’ve been disrespectful and impertinent.

‘Impertinent? What am I, six?’



‘If the shoe fits.’

‘How was I impertinent?’

‘The things you think are funny are rude. “I promise I won’t throw up.” Why would you bring that up? Why would you want to humiliate Valerie in front of my parents?’

‘I was not humiliating Valerie, because Valerie was not at the table.’

‘You were mocking her in absentia to elevate yourself.’

‘I was just trying to break the ice in presentia to add a little humor. It was all so stiff.’

‘It was stiff because you threw everything off schedule. We were late to drinks, late to our reservation.’

‘Because you did not tell me when we were leaving!’ We’d already been round on this ten times by then.

‘Why didn’t you come out of the room?’