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I had this made in Providence by a man who owes me a favor. It is platinum. It is not silver, which I cannot touch. The stone is a garnet from the Urals. It is the color of the wine my mother served at the feast of the first snow. That is the only reason I chose it.

One thing you should know before you wear it. The clasp is a slip mechanism. If it is pulled, it will tighten. If it is released, it will loosen again. It cannot harm you, and it cannot lock. I could have hidden this. I did not want to give you anything with a secret purpose. If you dislike it, say so, and I will replace it with something plain. If you like it, you may do with it as you wish.

It is not a leash. It is a gift. I would like to keep those two things separate.

—M.

I read it three times.

Then I sat on the cot and laughed, silently, with my hand over my mouth, because I was about to cry and I refused to do that in Room 118 with a moose magnet stuck to the mini-fridge.

It is not a leash. It is a gift. I would like to keep those two things separate.

Who says that? Who lives in eleven hundred years of history and still takes the trouble to explain to a hockey player what a clasp does?

My phone buzzed on the blanket.

ICE PRINCE: Did you receive the parcel?

I stared at it. I felt my whole face go hot and stupid.

I typed: who’s this

I looked at it. I deleted it.

I typed: you don’t get to tell me what to do

I deleted that too. It was true and it wasn’t what I meant.

What I meant was, you scared me. What I meant was, I said something cruel because I was jealous, and I don’t know what to do with being jealous, and I’m sorry. What I meant was a thing so large and simple that no combination of letters could carry it.

In the end I sent one word.

LEX: maybe

He didn’t answer. I could feel him not answering, from a floor and a hallway away. It was a very specific kind of silence, like someone standing very still to keep from spilling a full glass.

I looked at the necklace.

“Don’t be an idiot,” I said out loud, to the room.

Then I put it on.

The chain settled against my collarbone, cool for a second and then warm. The garnet lay in the hollow of my throat like a drop of something. In the little mirror over the sink I looked at myself, in a black shirt, with a red stone at my neck, a guy I didn’t recognize. He looked dressed for something. He looked seen.

You look good, said a small voice. You look like somebody’s.

I told it to shut up.

“Whoa,” said Jason, when I came out. “That’s fancy.”

“It’s a gift.”

“From who?”

“A friend.”

“A friend with taste. “ He whistled. “Dude, you look like a Bond villain. In a good way. In an I’d-go-to-the-dark-side way.”