You know what it’s like? It’s like being young again. I feel anything is possible.Sophie and I settle into a nice, easy rhythm with each other, as I knew we would. I’m enough like her to know what cheers her up, and so we do plenty of it, as much as we want. We loll about in bed watching movies and napping and eating off and on, whenever we please. I get to play the part of Lady Bountiful, making chicken soup and homemade wheat bread, roasted vegetables, stir-fries. I bring in People magazine, romantic comedies on DVD, fragrant moisturizers, lip glosses, nail polish in a variety of colors. It’s as though we exist in a kind of bubble—an overheated, one-room, exclusively female bubble, surrounded by everything we could want. Outside, branches scrape against the windows of her apartment, the sun rises and sets, the wind blows, and car horns honk. Inside, we give each other manicures and pedicures, and I comb her hair into upswept hairdos with tendrils, and the radiator bathes us in plumes of warm air.
What do You think about The Stuff That Never Happened?
