I brought water and lunch, but whatever she took in she immediately threw up. “Don’t tell me she drank last night,” said Ágnes over breakfast. “Sometimes it happens.” “Maybe I should start drinking.” “Maybe you should take Pavel out for a walk.” Magda was able to get a small dinner to stay down, and as she ate in the dark room she asked what she had said last night. “I don’t remember at all. But we spoke.” “You didn’t say anything, really.” “I said something.” “Do you want to say something now?” She considered it, frowning through the pain. “We should talk, yes, but I can’t. Not in this state.” “Have you figured out what you want?” She looked at me, her expression still painful. “I wish I knew, Ferenc. God, you don’t know how much I wish that.” I pulled the blanket to her chin. Ágnes was rolling a ball across the living room floor for Pavel to bring back, but the dog was uninterested. She stood up, retrieved it from the corner, and came back to try again.
