She stares with one eye at the light coming through the east window. She shifts her attention to the body behind her. Robert’s breathing is low and smooth. She focuses on her body. She doesn’t feel that good. Tense and on edge. She seems to wake up very fast. She has a sense that her mind is also on edge. She flexes her left arm against her breasts. They’re tender. She remembers the way Robert hugged her the night before, as they were saying good night. He dropped his arm across her chest and when she winced, he said, “Oh, sorry. You’re sensitive. You having your period?” Did he ever say anything like that before? She thinks he might have. But the way he put his arm down on her. . . . It seemed deliberate. As if he wanted to make her wince. So that then he would have a pretext for saying, “You having your period?” And how did she answer? “It’s about here.” She thinks those were the words. And what did he say? “Well, maybe you’ll grab a sick day? Well, ’night, dear.”
