‘Well, it is happening in real life, if that’s what you mean.’
‘No, I mean it feels like the kind of thing you would do if you were a real couple,’ he said, and continued to look at me.
‘I suppose it does,’ I said softly.
And that’s where we left it. The conversation did not continue, not out loud anyway. But it continued in my head, and I could tell it was happening in his head too. Synonyms forrealincludeauthentic, trueandundeniable.
Was this authentic, true and undeniable?
‘There,’ I said, as the last of the ice melted off the peas and the bag turned to mush. ‘I’ll put this back in the freezer.’ I stood up and walked to the door.
‘Thanks,’ he said, and I turned.
His ‘thanks’ sounded loaded with extra meaning. It was bigger than just a ‘thanks’. I could tell.
‘It’s a pleasure,’ I said, and my ‘pleasure’ was also loaded with meaning. It was bigger too.
CHAPTER42
‘Merry Christmas!’ I flew out of bed at the loud knock on the door.
‘Merry, merry,’ my mom crooned again. She loved Christmas. She lived for occasions: Easter, holidays, Valentine’s Day. My mother could make an occasion out of a total non-occasion; that was her gift. And I was sure there was a giant Christmas occasion downstairs waiting for us all.
‘Presents and breakfast downstairs!’ She walked away, humming a Christmas tune.
‘Morning,’ Andrew said, stretching his arms above his head.
‘Morning. How’s your toe? Is it still on?’
He pulled the bedsheets back and raised it in the air.
I scoffed. ‘Not a single mark.’
‘There.’ He pointed to the corner of his toe. ‘A bruise.’
‘Tiny, barely a bruise.’
‘Bruises are relative,’ he said.
‘No! No, they are absolutely not,’ I chuckled. ‘A bruise is a bruise, or else it is not a bruise.’ My eyes drifted down his leg and then stopped.
‘Um . . .’ I pointed, and he shot up.
‘That’s just . . . it doesn’t mean anything, it’s just—’
‘A morning erection!’ I helped him along, since it was clear he was floundering.
He put both of his hands over his crotch, and I could see he was tryingnotto look at me.
‘I’ve seen it before, you know. Twice. No need for this modesty. Even though, apparently, modesty is a virtue.’
‘I think the saying is “chastity is a virtue”, which really doesn’t work at all under these circumstances either,’ he said, still cupping himself.
‘Because we haven’t exactly been very chaste.’
‘No, we have not.’
‘In fact, we’ve been doing the opposite of chaste.’
