The woman got up from the bed and opened the bathroom door. She turned on the light. The bathroom was very large and very pink. The ceramic toilet and sink were pink, as was the large bathtub, and all the floor and all the walls were tiled with pink tiles. Even the ceiling was tiled pink.
What a lovely pink bathroom, she said. And look at that enormous tub.
You can have a nice bath in that, said the man. A nice hot long bath.
Yes, the woman said. A nice hot long pink bath. She smiled at him, a real smile. She entered the bathroom and closed the door behind her.
The man crossed the large crunching field of carpet and knelt beside the radiator. Praying, he turned the knob. It stuck for a moment and then released itself, and a spire of steam gushed out of the ancient Bakelite valve, like the smoke from a train engine in a silent movie. The coiled intestines of the radiator liquidly rumbled like the bowels of a person about to be sick. He placed his hand against the roughened rusty skin and felt it slowly warm to his touch. He kept his hand there until it burned.
He stood up and moved around the perimeter of the room, closing the curtains across the dark freezing windows, and then he turned on both bedside lamps, which wore little pink silk bonnets. He walked back over to the door and shut off the calcifying overhead light, and the room looked almost warm, almost cozy. He sat back upon the bed, which was covered by a quilted spread of slippery golden fabric, and listened for his wife in the bathroom, hoping to intuit from whatever he heard some clue as to how she was, but he heard nothing. After what seemed like a very long time the door open and she emerged, wearing only the long silk underwear they had both layered beneath their clothes ever since arriving in this cold country. She had pulled her damp hair back and gathered it into a ponytail. Her hair had grown in much thicker than it had ever been before the chemotherapy—the only good the poison did, she claimed. She looked very clean and fresh, flushed and almost healthy.
She stood near the bed and looked at him oddly, almost shyly.
I’ve turned on the heat, he said. He pointed toward the hissing radiator. So it should warm up.
Good, she said. Thank you.
He drew back the golden bedspread, revealing the white pillows and sheets it had covered. It was like layers of skin, he thought, one lying atop the other, and somewhere far beneath them all the bones, the blood. He patted the blank space he had revealed. Get in, he said.
No, she said.
It’s cold, he said. He could see the blunt points of her nipples interrupting the smooth silk outline of her underwear. You’re cold. Get in.
No. Wait.
What’s wrong?
Nothing is wrong, she said.
She reached out and touched his face. Don’t you see? We’re here. We made it. So nothing is wrong. Everything is good. This thing we’ve wanted, and planned for, suffered for, this thing we thought we would never have, never share, will soon be ours. I’m amazed. Aren’t you?
Things could still go wrong, the man said. I don’t want to jinx it.
No, she said. Don’t think like that. Believe it now.
I do, he said. I didn’t before, but now I do.
I love you, the woman said. And I’m grateful. I know I forget that sometimes, but I am. Grateful for everything you’ve done for me. Not just now, not just this, but everything. From the beginning.
I love you, he said.
I love you, too, she said. Will you get into bed with me, now? Will you get into bed and hold me?
Yes, he said.
She slid into the bed and moved toward its center. He began to get in beside her but she said, No. Get undressed. Please.
Oh, he said. He undressed beside the bed, aware of her watching him. He let his clothes drop onto the floor, onto the horrible shag carpet. He stood for a moment in his long silk underwear and then began again to enter the bed, but once again she stopped him.
No, she said. Take those off. I want to feel your skin. Please, she said. It’s warm in the bed.
Is it?
Yes. It’s deliciously warm.
He took off his underwear and slid quickly into the bed beside her. He pulled the sheets and coverlet over him. It was