On the day Frank was to return, Anders woke with the light. Cleo was beside him, a bar of sunlight striping her face. Her expression, even in sleep, was worried. He pulled his arm out slowly from under her back and rolled out of bed. He thought about showering, but he wanted to smell Cleo on him all day. He dressed quickly in his usual dark jeans and turtleneck, then went to the kitchen. Tea and porridge, that was what Cleo liked in the mornings. Whistling between his teeth, he plugged in the kettle and pulled milk from the fridge. A plume of steam funneled into the room. He stirred the oats, added a swirl of granular brown sugar. Frank would be landing in a few hours.
The postcard Frank had sent him was propped on the kitchen counter. On the front was a picture of a man being mauled by a lion. The caption underneath it read “Send more tourists to South Africa!” Anders had received it with a jolt of fear—was Frank the lion?—when he remembered a long-standing joke between the two of them to each send the other the worst postcard they could find from every country they visited. On the back, scrawled in Frank’s nearly illegible hand, were four words: “Thought of you, brother.”
Anders checked his watch; he didn’t have much time. Today was his day with Jonah, his ex-girlfriend Christine’s son. Jonah wasn’t biologically his child, but Anders had lived with him from the ages of four to ten and loved him in a fierce and uncomfortable way that he imagined was close to paternal. He looked forward to seeing him, though he didn’t make time for it as often as he should. On this occasion, he was happy for the distraction. It would be good to take his mind off Frank’s plane making its slow descent back into New York.
Cleo was spread like a star on the bed when he returned with breakfast. She’d thrown the covers from her, leaving her pale chest exposed. He liked her this way in the mornings, unadorned. Her silvery eyelashes gave her face an open, unguarded look. He sat down on the edge of the bed and very gently leaned over to kiss her nipple. She gave him one of her drowsy smiles, like a sunbeam struggling through an overcast sky.
“How did you sleep?” he asked.
“Pipes were clanging.”
“It’s an old building,” he said. “I made breakfast.”
Cleo sat up and gave him a serious look. “What do you think of Eleanor?”
“Who?”
“The copywriter at Frank’s firm.”
“She’s nice, I guess? Why on earth would you ask?”
“I think Frank’s in love with her.”
Anders put the porridge and tea mug down on the bedside table with a plunk.
“Why are you bringing this up now?”
“You think he is too?”
“I think you’re being ridiculous. Eleanor? She’s … she’s not Frank’s type.”
“I saw their emails.”
“Just now?”
“No. A little while ago.”
“So?”
“They send each other these jokes. Things they find funny.”
“And?”
“It’s the kind of thing people in love do.”
“Or bored coworkers. You’ve never had an office job, Cleo. That kind of stuff is normal.”
“It doesn’t feel normal.”
“Is that what all this was about then? You think Frank’s having an affair, so you wanted to have one too?”
“I don’t think they’re having an affair exactly. I think he’s … they feel for each other.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Don’t call me crazy.”
Cleo sat up farther against the headboard and yanked the sheets around herself. Her face was pinched and white.
“Look—” He wrestled her hands away from where they were knotted at her chest and took them in his. “I know this is difficult, what with Frank coming back and us not knowing … Well, how to proceed. But we’ve had such a happy time together. Let’s not fight now, please.”
“I’m going to say something to him,” she said.
He dropped her hands. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t—” She stopped, trying to find the right words. “Something has to change.”
Anders felt a pull in his stomach, as though a plug had just been yanked out.
“Cleo, please, whatever you do, do not say anything about us to him. Not yet. I need … I need more time.”
“I won’t bring you into it.”
“Then what do you want to say?”
“I don’t know! That I’m not happy. That I’m moving out. I have to do something. Can you just promise me one thing?”