Part 17 (1/2)

I wanted to shout myself into his ear.

I touched his shoulder.

He lowered his head.

How could you?

He wouldn't show me his eyes. I hate silence.

Say something.

He took his pen from his s.h.i.+rt pocket and the top napkin from the stack on the table.

He wrote, You were happy when I was away.

How could you think that?

We are lying to ourselves and to each other.

Lying about what? I don't care if we're lying.

I am a bad person.

I don't care. I don't care what you are.

I can't.

What's killing you?

He took another napkin from the stack.

He wrote, You're killing me.

And then I was silent.

He wrote, You remind me.

I put my hands on the table and told him, You have me.

He took another napkin and wrote, Anna was pregnant.

I told him, I know. She told me.

You know?

I didn't think you knew. She said it was a secret. I'm glad you know.

He wrote, I'm sorry I know.

It's better to lose than never to have had.

I lost something I never had.

You had everything.

When did she tell you?

We were in bed talking.

He pointed at, When.

Near the end.

What did she say?

She said, I'm going to have a baby.

Was she happy?

She was overjoyed.

Why didn't you say anything?

Why didn't you?

In my dream, people apologized for things that were about to happen, and lit candles by inhaling.

I have been seeing Oskar, he wrote.

I know.

You know?

Of course I know.

He flipped back to, Why didn't you say anything?

Why didn't you?

The alphabet went z, y, x, w ...

The clocks went tock-tick, tock-tick...

He wrote, I was with him last night. That's where I was. I buried the letters.

What letters?

The letters I never sent.

Buried them where?