Michael lay in bed, his hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling in the darkness. He didn’t move when Sophie got under the covers and lay down on her side, facing him. Finally, he sighed and rolled over, taking her into his arms. He put his face into the crook of her neck, and ran his hand up and down her back.
“You were perfect,” she whispered.
“Thank you. It hurt me to see it again. More so than to actually do the interview.”
“I know. I’m proud of you. On both counts. On all counts.” She wound her arms around his waist. “You are braver than anyone else I know. Stronger. I love you more than my own life.”
“I made the decision to leave so easily.” He snapped his fingers in the darkness. “I had to go, and so I went. And now I will never be the same. I will never be able un-see the things I saw in the warzone, in Parnaas. It was madness.”
“War usually is.”
He didn’t answer, only pulled her closer together so that their bodies were as close as they could be. They fell asleep like that.
Chapter 21
May 9, 2014
For the week following the broadcast of the interview, Michael remained withdrawn. This didn’t surprise Sophie. She had plenty of experience watching him retreat after he’d allowed his emotions to show. Ten years ago she might have pushed. Now she knew better.
After the interview aired, she went back to Brooklyn on her own for a few days, picking up her mail and running errands. Giving him the space he needed.
They’d have to decide about living arrangements. She couldn’t keep sleeping over at her boyfriend’s parents’ house indefinitely. Sophie wondered if between the two of them, they could afford something small in Manhattan. It would be nice to lose the commute.
Sophie returned Sunday night. She went to work every day, and Michael finished up the last of his interviews. They ate dinner together. Went to the movies. Shared tidbits from their days. He started sending her flowers, mountains of them. They slept wrapped up in each other’s arms every night. She felt cherished.
So this is what it’s like to have a quasi-normal life with the man you love.
On Friday night, Michael was particularly distant. Max and Signe had gone to visit friends in White Plains for the weekend. Sophie awoke in the night to find their bed empty. She could hear the faint tinkling of Signe’s piano downstairs in the living room, and knew where to find him.
“Hi,” she said from the doorway.
He looked up, concerned. “Did I wake you?”
“Not at all.” She sat on the couch, not bothering to put a light on. “Come sit with me?” He pushed back the bench and joined her. Sophie burrowed her face into his chest, nuzzling against his collarbones. His hands ran through her hair, then tipped her chin up. His lips brushed her forehead, across her eyes, and down to her mouth.
“You’ve been quiet,” she whispered against his lips. “What have you been thinking about?”
He smiled and kissed her again. “I have been thinking about you and me. Our future. My career. Many things.”
“Have you come to any conclusions?”
“I know that I love you. I do not wish to live apart from you. I would like for us to look for our own place together, mana mila.”
“Me too.” She put her head on his shoulder. “It would be nice to live here in Manhattan, if we can manage it.”
He nodded. She shivered, and he reached over to pull a throw around them. “I also think…” He paused, struggling over what he had to say. “I think it is time for me to see the therapist you recommended.”
She looked up at him. This couldn’t be an easy thing for him to admit. “I can call on Monday, set something up for you.”
He nodded, and she said nothing more. He was trying, and that was all Sophie could ask.
“There is something I need to tell you,” he said. “Something I have been thinking about a lot lately.”
“Tell me.”
“Anjali was extremely unhappy with my lapse in judgment regarding your medication the day we returned to the camp from Kaliningrad. She threatened to file a formal complaint against me as a physician upon her return to America.” He turned his face so he could look her in the eye. “I could lose my license to practice medicine.”
Sophie wasn’t surprised. Anjali had a high professional standard, and his actions in Europe had breached that standard decisively. Anjali’s temper rivaled Michael’s. Sophie didn’t think her friend would push the complaint, given the circumstances, but she didn’t know for sure.
“I’m sorry, Michael. I’d like to think that Anjali will take the circumstances into consideration.”