‘Well then.’
He got up heavily and went back to his chair. When she wants something out of me, he thought viciously, she just sits and waits for it. He slumped into the chair and looked at her. She had not moved. He made a conscious effort and wrung the bitterness from his thought, leaving only the content, the advice. He waited.
She sighed then and sat up. At sight of her rumpled hair and flushed cheeks, he felt a surge of tenderness. Sternly he put it down.
She said, ‘You have to take my word. You’ll have to trust me, Hip.’
Slowly he shook his head. She dropped her eyes, put her hands together. She raised one, touched her eye with the back of her wrist.
She said, ‘That piece of cable.’
The tubing lay on the floor where he had dropped it. He picked it up. ‘What about it?’
‘When was the first time you remembered you had it—remembered it was yours?’
He thought, ‘The house. When I went to the house, asking.’
‘No,’ she said,’ I don’t mean that. I mean, after you were sick.’