knew what was on her mind. I wasn’t stupid. But I didn’t know how to soothe her without fucking her. I didn’t know what to say that would be practical. She was hiding her worry from me, and that bothered me. I didn’t like it. She needed to be completely open.
The bathroom had no towels and only little chips of soap, but we managed to clean each other with what we had.
“You make a lot of bubbles with a little soap, Capo. I admire that in a man.”
She was coated in white drifts. I ran my hand down her body, cutting through the glaze to her bare skin. She put her head back and let the water run through her hair, the impossible shade of strawberry blond turning dark brown. We had no shampoo. She just wet it then looked at me with her lashes stuck together and beads of water on her lips. I brushed them away.
“You were going to tell me something in the car,” I said.
She looked away. “Yeah.” She shut off the water. “I guess we have to air dry.”
We found sheets in a drawer under the bed. White flowers on blue with worn spots. But clean. Better than I’d expected.
“Are you worried she’s in the hospital?” She was naked still, arms out as she flapped the top sheet over the bed. “I mean, she could be sick.”
“It was the arrhythmia. They’re lucky they brought her in, or I’d kill them for not taking care of her.”
She didn’t say anything. Her silence was enough.
“Theresa, she’s my responsibility.”
“I know. I’m not blaming you. You’re honorable. If you felt differently, I’d think less of you. You can’t just throw someone away because they’re not convenient right now.”
She crouched to tuck in the sheet. I’d never seen her do a domestic chore. I knew she couldn’t cook, and she hired out the cleaning. I never would have married her in my youth. Wouldn’t have even considered it.
“I have no cause to trust any man in the world, but I trust you. I don’t know if that says more about you or me,” she said.
“It says something about us.”
“And I know you’re not going to get confused and start fucking her. Or leave me to start over with her. I don’t know how I know that. It’s just… part of me still thinks you should.” She tucked the sheet around the bed, across the foot, and back up to the side I stood on.
She stood and put her hands on her naked hips, and I couldn’t take not touching her for another second. I put my arms around her waist and kissed her face.
“We were always complicated,” she continued, “but this? I don’t even know what this means. I don’t want to tell you what to do. It’s your culture. Your family. Your values.”
“This bed is a disaster. I’ve never seen a sheet so crooked in my life.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m not changing the subject.”
She pulled her face away to look at me, mouth pursed, head tilted just a little to express disbelief.
“You know who can make a bed? My wife. And fast. She practically had the sheets trained to make themselves.” I was a brute, of course, to bring her down before bringing her up. “You want the values of my culture? In those sheets were everything. If a woman could cook and care for the house, she was everything a man needed. And I was the luckiest man on earth. But who am I now? Am I the man who values straight sheets? Is that what I want anymore? And if I don’t care about the sheets, or the cooking, what do I care about?”
“If you’re telling me you love me, I know that. But a plan. I need a plan.” She seemed exasperated, as if she wasn’t getting through to me.
I pushed her onto the bed. I wanted to rumple those sheets. Shred them. I straddled her and put her hands over her head as if that would shut her up. I was getting to something, and I had to speak it or lose it. “You. There’s only you, Theresa. I can’t figure it out, and I don’t have time to tonight. Who am I anymore? I don’t know. I’m a different man now. So you want a plan, but I can’t make one because I don’t know what I want besides you.”
“You have me,” she said.