Part 16 (2/2)

He vaguely remembered something about yesterday morning-was it yesterday?-and feeling ill from the odor of food cooking. He felt no such illness now. He tried to lock on the memory, felt it skitter from his grasp, usurped by the staggering aroma.

Then he rounded the corner, and Nora was there: barefoot and freshly showered, wearing nothing but one of his s.h.i.+rts. Her magnificent hair was damp, swept back. A skillet was sizzling on the front burner of the stove.

She looked up, saw him. The s.p.a.ce between them began to hum, as if someone somewhere had thrown a switch, charging the air with nervous energy.

Then the next thing he knew, she was crossing the kitchen: wrapping her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. Her embrace was more than strong; it was ferocious in its intensity. Syd felt a rush run through him. Every place where their bodies connected pulsed with energy. She kissed his neck, and his knees went weak.

”I am so sorry,” she whispered at last.

”Me, too,” he said. He felt his throat tighten, forced his words through the gap. ”I was afraid I'd never see you again.”

”I couldn't stay away,” she said, then added almost in a whisper, ”especially not today.”

It took a second for that to sink in; then suddenly it dawned on him that he'd utterly forgotten: in all the excitement and insanity of the last few days, it had totally slipped his mind. ”Oh my G.o.d, you're right.” He shook his head and laughed out loud. ”Thirty-five. I can't f.u.c.kin' believe it.”

”Believe it, Grampa.” She grinned and licked his nose. ”Happy birthday.”

He laughed again, and then they kissed: a soul-searching plunge into each other's depths. When they came up for air he said to her, ”I can't believe you actually remembered.”

”Hard to forget the birthday of someone you love so much,” she replied.

Syd did a double take. ”Excuse me?”

”I said, I love you.”

Syd heard the words and felt something give inside him, like a floodwall collapsing. The words were like a force of nature that swept away every stick and shred of resistance. And it felt so good to hear those words again, to know down to his bones that they were true, that this was really happening. His mind sped back to the day he was married: to the feeling of standing in a chapel as a robed and rambling priest prayed to some distant, cloud-bound deity.

And all those words were fine and dandy-they'd a.s.suaged the flock in their search for meaning-but Syd himself in that moment had taken an alternate route: reaching inside, to make a very personal covenant. This is the one I've chosen. This is the one I want.

Then he flashed forward, back to the wild and wonderful creature in his arms. And suddenly it was all very clear.

”I love you, too,” he said, losing himself in her eyes.

And because he was inside those eyes-because they were virtually touching souls-he knew that she knew the utter depths of his conviction. Knew that he would do anything for her: drop everything he'd ever owned, dump everyone he'd ever known, chase down the shadows in the darkest corners of the world. And even kill: yes, without a doubt. He would even kill for her.

Nora saw it very clearly, in that moment. Slowly, she nodded her head. Her eyes had never been more intense.

”You must be starved,” she said. He nodded. Nora gestured toward the kitchen table. A place setting was lovingly laid out. ”Have a seat,” she said, and he gladly complied.

Then she went to the stove, returned with a heaped and steaming plate. Syd looked in amazement at a huge curving slab of meat, two fried eggs sidling up to it like a pair of bulging eyes.

”Jesus,” he softly exclaimed. ”Is that steak?”

”It's a special cut,” Nora explained.

”Mmmmm.” Inhaling deeply. ”Where did you find this in the middle of the night?”

Nora smiled. ”Oh, I had to hunt around a bit. But I finally found a place that had what I was looking for.” She took a seat across from him, her eyes bright and attentive. ”Dig in.”

Syd smiled, picking up his knife and fork. The meat was red and thick and rich, barely singed by the griddle. Drops of juice squeezed from the striations as he sliced it, dripped from a lone protrusive vein. Nora watched attentively as he brought a forkful to his mouth, popped it in, began to chew. His eyes went wide. His smile expanded.

”Well?” she asked, grinning. ”Do you like it?”

”It's . . . great. Jesus!” There was reverence in his tone. Nora beamed. Syd chewed and swallowed. ”I've never tasted anything like it.” He took another bite, chewed thoughtfully. ”How'd you make it?”

”Secret recipe,” she teased, and it was clear that her delight was enormous. She watched as Syd chowed down, cutting another hunk off the slab and scooping up a forkful of eggs.

”I can't believe how hungry I am,” he said, champing happily. ”Aren't you gonna have any?”

”I already ate.”

Syd nodded and dug in. As he ate, he felt a strength and a clarity return to him. There was something in the b.l.o.o.d.y taste and b.u.t.tery texture-in the experience of the meat itself, dancing around his teeth and tongue-that grounded and centered him in his body. It was the most deeply satisfying meal he'd ever had.

Syd took one last look around his kitchenful of ancient relics; and in that moment, it was over. The withered umbilical cord that had held him to this dying place was severed; the cut was surgical and clean.

”Darlin'?” he said. There was food in his mouth. He talked around it. ”I've been thinking about everything you said.”

”Uh-huh.”

”And I decided you're totally right. There's nothing to hold me here.” He sawed off another hunk and shoveled it in, then waved his fork at the room. ”A couple of days to get it together, and”-he stopped in mid-thought, picked a piece of gristle from between his teeth-”I could probably be ready by the end of the week.”

Nora grimaced slightly. ”Why so long?” she said. ”I don't understand.”

”Well,” Syd countered, ”basically, I'm ready when you are. . . .”

”And what if I'm ready today?”

It was Syd's turn to grimace. ”I still need a couple days,” he said. ”Till Friday, at least. . . .”

”No,” she said.

”Nora . . .”

”I'm not staying around here that long.”

Getting frustrated now. ”Baby, I've got a lot of s.h.i.+t to take care of. There's loose ends to tie up, people to say good-bye to, I've got to pick up my paycheck from work . . . ” He tore off a hunk of bread, began sopping up the blood and yolk that intermingled on his plate. ”Plus I wanna see if I can unload my stereo. . . .”

Nora stood then, began pacing the cramped confines of the kitchen. ”Waitaminute, waitaminute,” she said, suddenly annoyed. ”Are you saying we've got to hang around here for the rest of the week so you can sell a G.o.dd.a.m.ned stereo?”

Syd looked at her, surprised. ”Well, s.h.i.+t, between that and my CD collection I can probably get close to a grand. . . .”

”Who cares?”

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