Nick started laughing then. Melissa just looked away as if she wasn’t paying attention to the conversation. I pulled my shoulders back fractionally to feel Nick’s arm against my skin.
We’re all on the same side here, Derek said. Nick, you’re an oppressive white male, you back me up.
I actually agree with Bobbi, said Nick. Oppressive though I certainly am.
Oh, God save us, Derek said. Who needs liberal democracy? Maybe we should just burn down Government Buildings and see where that gets us.
I know you’re exaggerating, said Nick, but increasingly it’s hard to see why not.
When did you get so radical? Evelyn said. You’re spending too much time around college students, they’re putting ideas in your head.
Melissa tipped some ash off her cigarette into a tray she was holding in her left hand. She was smiling then, a comical little smile.
Yeah, Nick, you used to love the police state, Melissa said. What happened?
You invited all these college students on holiday with us, he said. I was powerless to resist.
She sat back and looked at him, through the glimmer of smoke. He lifted his arm off the back of my chair and put his cigarette out in the ashtray. The temperature seemed to drop perceptibly, and I saw everything in dimmer colours.
Did you stop by the lake earlier? she said.
On the way back, yeah, said Nick.
Frances got sunburnt, Bobbi said.
Actually I wasn’t really burnt, but my face and arms were a little pink, and warm to the touch. I shrugged.
Well, Bobbi insisted on taking her clothes off and getting into the water, I said.
You snitch, said Bobbi. I’m ashamed of you.
Melissa was still looking over at Nick. He didn’t seem at all unsettled by this; he looked back at her and smiled, a relaxed and spontaneous smile, which made him look handsome. She shook her head in a gesture of amusement or exasperation, and finally looked away.
We all went to bed late that night, at about two in the morning. For ten or twenty minutes I lay on my bed in the dark hearing the quiet complaint of floorboards above me, and doors clicking shut. No voices. Bobbi’s room next door was entirely silent. I sat up and then lay down again. I felt myself developing a plan to go upstairs for a glass of water, though I wasn’t really thirsty. I could even hear myself justifying my thirst with reference to the wine I’d had at dinner, as if I would later be subject to interview about what I was doing upstairs. I sat up again, feeling my own forehead, which was normal temperature. Quietly I crept out of bed and up the stairs, wearing my white nightdress with the pattern of tiny rosebuds. The light in the kitchen was on. My heart started to beat very hard.
Inside the kitchen Nick was putting the clean wine glasses away in the cabinet. He looked up at me and said: oh, hello. Instantly, like I was reciting something, I replied: I felt like a glass of water. He made a humorous face, like he didn’t really believe me, but he handed me a glass anyway. I poured the water and then stood against the fridge door to drink it. It was lukewarm and tasted chlorinated. Eventually Nick stood in front of me and said, there aren’t any more wine glasses, so. We were looking at each other. I told him he was a total embarrassment and he said he was ‘extremely aware’ of that. He put his hand on my waist and I felt my whole body lift toward him. I touched the buckle of his belt and said: we can sleep together if you want, but you should know I’m only doing it ironically.
Nick’s room was on the same floor as the kitchen. It was the only bedroom on that floor of the house; the others were upstairs or else down in the basement like mine. His window was open onto the sea, so he pulled the shutters over quietly and closed it while I got onto the bed. When he was inside me I pressed my face into his shoulder and said: does it feel okay?
I keep wanting to say thank you, he said. That’s weird, isn’t it?
I told him to say it and he did. Then I told him I was coming and he shut his eyes and said, oh. Afterwards I sat with my back against the wall, looking down at him, where he was lying on his back and breathing.
I’ve had a rough couple of weeks, he said. I’m sorry about the thing on the internet.
I know I was being cold toward you. I didn’t realise you had pneumonia.
He smiled, he touched the soft underside of my knee with his fingers.
I thought you wanted me to leave you alone, he said. I was really sick and lonely, you know. It just seemed like you wanted nothing to do with me.
I thought about saying: no, I wanted you to tell me that you dreamt about me at night.
I was having a bad time too, I said. Let’s forget about it.