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But the idea of facing o cold I knohat I’ve done was i father in this situation would have a right to be angry It’s just that everything rown desensitized over tih times when I didn’t need to be; I can’t find it in me to be sorry this ti whether Ansel’s schedule will let up, ill happen with us tonight, tomorrow, next week, or ill happen when I find myself in a situation where I can’t communicate with someone, but this was the first decision in my life that feels like it’s onlymy wake-up call with Ansel, when I step out of the shower In front of me, the bathroom mirror dries perfectly, clear of any stray water droplets, any streaks, as if it’s been treated with soht but there’s absolutely nothing that needs to be done The bathroo directly inside Curiosity prickles at the edges ofThe apartely so Before I get to the living room s, I knohat I’ll find

Or, rather, what I won’t find I know I pressedhim climb onto his motorcycle I know I did it more than once But there’s no handprint there, only lass No one has been here but us At some point, in his sliver of time at home, he took a minute to wipe the s and mirrors clean

THE OLD WOMAN who lives on the botto the doorstep when I walk out of the elevator and I spend at least an hour with her on ments, mixed with French words I can’t translate, but somehoesurprisingly easy She tells me the elevator was added in the seventies, after she and her husband etables are much better down Rue de Roreen grapes with bitter seeds that givethe so much now, and that she never really liked the other one

I push this bit of infor, dark curiosity out of eous and successful and char; of course he had a life before I followed him to the airport, a life that no doubt included women It doesn’t surprise me to know someone ith hi to learn anything about him, other than what he looks like with no clothes on

I SPEND MOST of the day looking around our neighborhood and o on endlessly, shop after shop, tiny alley after tiny alley It’s a bit like diving down the rabbit hole, but here I know I’ll find my way out; I simply need to find the telltale M of the Métropolitain and will be able to get back to Ansel’s street easily

My street, I re of his ho athat euros are real , it only feels more surreal

I like this view of the street at dusk The sky is bright high aboveto fade where the sun has started to slip low on the horizon Long shadows cut across the sidewalk, and colors somehow sees crowd the narrow road and the cracked, uneven sidewalk feels like a path to an adventure In daylight, Ansel’s building looks a little shabby, touched with dust and wind and exhaust But at night it seeht owl

As I follow the crooked sidewalk, I realize this is the first time I’ve walked all the way frootten off at the right stop, and thento check the app on my phone

Behind me I hear cars on the road, hs from an openAll the s are open here, balcony doors and shutters throide to catch the cooler evening air, curtains billowing out into the breeze

There’s a lightness in , followed by a distinct jump in my pulse when I spot Ansel’s motorcycle parked on the sidewalk just out front

I fill s as I step into the tiny lobby and walk toward the elevator My hand shakes as I press the button for our floor and I remind myself to breathe Deep breath in Deep breath out Keep it together This will be the first time Ansel has arrived home before ether without one of us half asleep or vo My cheeks burn as I re after I got myself off with his hand

Oh dear God

My stomach erupts into butterflies, and a mix of nerves and adrenaline propels me out of the elevator I fitopen the door

"Honey, I’m home!" I bounce into the entryway and stop at the sound of Ansel’s voice

He’s in the kitchen, phone pressed to his ear and speaking in such rapid-fire French I’m not sure how the person on the other end of the line can possibly understand hiitated, and repeats the same phrase, louder and more irritated each time