“Dani.”
I closed the refrigerator.
“What?”
“Is Amy your girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Do you want her to be?”
I held the answer behind my teeth and listened to Lola explain geological eras to herself in the living room.
“I don’t know what I want,” I said.
“Lie.”
“I know what I want. I don’t know what I can have.”
“Better.”
“There’s coaching. The challenge. Her marathon. My certification.”
“Your fear.”
“I was getting there.”
“No, you weren’t.”
I opened a drawer and reorganized forks that did not need help. Gloria watched.
“You never clean when calm,” she said.
“I clean.”
“You move dirt into emotionally convenient locations.”
“Still cleaning.”
The doorbell rang. My body reacted like a starting gun had fired. Gloria smiled.
“It’s three twenty.”
The clock said three twenty. Not Amy. A grocery delivery. I hated everyone.
Amy arrived at four fifty-two. Eight minutes early. Of course. I saw her through the window before she reached the porch. She wore dark trousers, a fitted burgundy sweater, and low boots. Her hair was loose around her shoulders. In one hand, she carried flowers. In the other, a rectangular gift bag covered in dinosaurs. Something inside me shifted so hard I had to grip the curtain. Gloria appeared beside me.
“Subtle.”
“Go away.”
“This is my house.”
The doorbell rang. Lola sprinted from the living room. I reached the door first.
“Walking,” Gloria called.
Lola slowed with theatrical resentment. I opened the door. Amy gave me a small, nervous smile.
