Page 86 of The Man I Hate

I chuckled. “I have a faint recollection of Leo Gursky and Bruno trying to bake a cake.”

“I read it to you.”

“That part?” I asked, taking another drink. “The beginning? That was at the beginning, wasn’t it?”

“That part? Yeah. It seems like it was at the beginning,” she replied. “I’m not sure. All the days kind of run into one another right now.”

I was disappointed that we didn’t get to read the books together. It was something I was looking forward to sharing with her.

“How much of it did you read?” I asked.

“I read the entire book.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“I did.”

“All of it?”

“Every word,” she replied. “It seemed to calm you. I know it calmed me.”

I took my phone off the nightstand and cancelled the speaker. I raised it to my ear. “Wait, you read it to me?”

“I did.”

“All of it?”

“Uh huh.”

“Have you cracked the cover of Angela’s Ashes?”

“I have.”

I was fractionally disappointed. More so in myself than anything else. “I had visions of reading them together. Sharing the experience.”

“We did share the experience,” she replied.

“Don’t tell me you read Angela’s Ashes to me, too.”’

“I did.”

“All of it?”

“Every chapter.”

“Holy shit,” I replied, rubbing my face with my hand. “I’ve been out of it.”

“Yes,” she said. “You sure have.”

“Hold on a minute,” I said. “I’m going to go weigh myself.”

“Why?”

“When I was in the bathroom a minute ago, I looked like a skeleton. I want to see what I weigh.”

“Okay.”

I finished the bottle of Gatorade and set it on the nightstand. With my phone pressed to my ear I walked to the bathroom. Each step became much easier than the last. Excited that I was getting better, I got on the scale.