room, and they’ve got nothing to do with drafts and vents. Sound and light carry differently, too. I can’t figure it out, but it’s not a structural problem,” she said. “I think it’s an effect of the architecture. You’ve probably never heard of it, but this is Chaotic Naturalism. The last of its kind. Also, and this does not at all prove your stupid point, but I’ve started hallucinating. I’ve been dreaming about this guy in a three-piece suit who wants me to build a door. It’s not good.”
He stood, obliterating her view of the Parkside Plaza, and looked around the den. Took it in for a long time, then asked, “Why would you live in a place like this?”
She shrugged. “You’re the one who said I need a doctor.”
He touched a plaster wall, then put his ear to it. “You shouldn’t stay here. There’s something wrong. I felt it last night, too. Sorry about that, by the way.”
She nodded. “That was mean, what you said.”
He leaned on the turret seat, next to Wolverine. Gave the little guy a pet, prick side down. “Yes. It was. But you can be mean, too.”
She noticed the neatly tailored suit he’d worn to call on her tonight. Almost three years later, the gesture still charmed. She got up and leaned next to him. “I don’t want to fight.”
“Good. Let’s get out of here. Let’s eat.”
“Amir’s Falafel. Open all night. Or Tom’s Diner.”
“I’ll treat.”
“Thanks, ’cause I’m broke…Would you come to Nebraska with me?”
He took a labored breath, like he hadn’t exercised, or even left his apartment, in six weeks. She realized that she really was worried about him. In her absence, who was cleaning the sheets?
“I know I shouldn’t ask,” she said.
“No. You shouldn’t.”
She waited. The seconds passed.
“I’ll come. There’s an American Airlines red-eye. Tomorrow morning at six,” he said.
She was so relieved that she burst into tears, then averted her eyes and flapped her hands in front of her face, so he didn’t feel obligated to comfort her. “Thanks,” she said. “Also, I’m glad you told me that stuff. You never tell me when you’re mad, so it’s good. I’ll fix it if I can. I want to fix it.”
“Audrey,” he answered, his voice gruff. Then he took her in his arms, and she let loose, and cried harder.
“I don’t want to make any promises. But I hope you know I love you. You’re the most important person in the world to me.”
“I know. Start making some promises,” he whispered as he held her, and she squeezed tighter.
She packed in less than ten minutes. As they left 14B, they found a L’Oréal business card taped to the door, over which Jayne had written, “So sorry, Addie. Call me if you need anything: (917) 274–6639. She’d drawn a blue daisy in the corner, shaded in with a light-handed Bic. The flower was open, its layered petals sharp points like gardening spades.
At Tom’s Diner, they ate American cheese and broccoli omelets while on the overhead speakers, soft rock Beatles “Penny Lane” played. When she tried to filch a fry from his plate, he forked her wrist. “I’ve killed men for less,” he grunted.
“Fair enough, heart attack,” she answered.
Before they caught the bus, she worried that she’d left something plugged in or turned on at 14B. A toaster, maybe. Or the hair dryer. Or worse, the alarm clock, whose frayed wire might cause an electrical fire. “I’m going to go back up for a sec,” she told him.
He was unfazed. When they’d lived together, she’d had to run home for no good reason at least twice a week. Never once had anything caught fire. “Need me to come?”
“No. I’ll leave my bags with you. I’ll just be a second.”
The lobby was empty, and the Haitian doorman was sleeping at his post with an open issue of Playboy draped over his face. She took the elevator up and opened 14B. She unplugged the severed alarm clock wire, then searched all the other outlets and lights, not once, but twice, and in her mind made a note, so that she’d be able to visualize it while she was gone, and not worry: The toaster is unplugged. The oven is off. You checked, she would tell herself.
As she was leaving, she took one last look at the den, then turned out the overhead light. In the dark, her mind played a trick on her. A heavyset woman sat at the piano bench while tiny red ants crept across her