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I have not answered it yet.

The front door opens.

Gabi comes in carrying her purse, a paper shopping bag, and a black case I recognize immediately.

“No.”

She closes the door with her hip.

“I haven’t asked anything yet.”

“That is makeup.”

“Excellent assessment.”

“I am not going anywhere.”

Gabi puts everything on the table.

Tova calls from the kitchen, “She should go.”

Gabi sits across from me.

“Different question. Do you want dinner somewhere that doesn’t contain my refrigerator?”

“Where?”

“Ocho.”

“You made a reservation?”

“Yesterday.”

“For us?”

“For two people. I was optimistic about one of them.”

I glance toward the kitchen.

“Tova.”

“She can come if she wants.”

Tova appears in the doorway.

“I don’t want to.”

Gabi points at her.

“Excellent. Problem solved.”

“I can stay here.”

“You can,” Gabi says. “Door stays locked, no stove, and text me if anything happens that requires fire, blood, police, or emotional support.”

Tova considers this.

“What if I run out of chips?”