I looked at myself in the mirror for the first time on the fifth day.
I stood in the bathroom for twenty minutes. Nigel stood outside the door. He didn’t come in. He didn’t say anything. He just waited.
I was older than I’d thought. My hair was more gray than brown. My eyes were green. Green! I’d always thought they were brown, because my mother’s were brown.
I opened the bathroom door.
“My eyes are green,” I said.
“I know,” he said softly. “I’ve been looking at them for twenty years.”
“You never told me.”
“You never asked,” he said. Then he winced. “That’s not a good answer, is it? After everything.”
“No,” I said. “But it’s an honest one.”
We went to counseling. Every Thursday, for six months. A woman named Dr. Abernathy with a little office over a bakery, so it always smelled like bread.
