Wrapped

She sat on the edge of her bed with her robe wrapped tightly around her. The big toe of one foot traced small circles on the carpet below, moving around an invisible point. She didn�t seem to realize her foot was in motion; she was staring too intently at her hands, which were touching the little pink roses on her robe one by one, as if counting them.

Across the hall, the shower was running. Steam was flowing out the open door, gliding noiselessly down the hall and into some dark and unknown corner of the apartment. With the squeak of a turning faucet, the shower was over. She looked up from the little garden of her robe and through her bedroom door, which faced the bathroom. As he stepped carefully out of the shower, she watched him curiously, considering. He must like his showers hot, she thought to herself, noticing the blotchy redness of his skin.

Drying himself off, he looked over at her, as if noticing her for the first time. �Hey,� he said, �you�d better get up and get moving.�

She shrugged noncommitally, looking back down, this time at her right toe, which was still drawing its little worlds on her bedroom floor. Her toenail polish was chipping. She hadn�t realized.

�Maybe we could meet for lunch today,� she said as he walked into the bedroom and started to dress.

He flinched, or she imagined he flinched. �No can do,� he said, shaking his head. �I�ve got a long day today. No time for lunch. I might even have to work late, so dinner�s probably shot too.�

She tucked the chipped toenail under the opposite foot, suddenly ashamed. She wanted to be someone who took care of herself. Someone impeccable.

�Right. I guess I�ve got a busy day too.�

He flashed an oversized smile at her and patted her on the head as he walked past her to get his shoes. He was humming to himself. A song she didn�t recognize. She promised herself she�d listen to the radio more, but knew she wouldn�t.

�You might wanna open those,� he said, gesturing toward the dark Venetian blinds that covered the bedroom window. �It�s like a dungeon in here.� He crossed back over to the bathroom, started combing his hair, assessing himself again.

She nodded, and wasn�t sure if she said �yes� out loud, or just in her head. She looked over at the blinds, but made no move to open them.

She turned back just in time to see him winking at himself in the mirror as he shut off the bathroom light. He stepped into the hall. �Have a good day, Kid.� She nodded, waiting for something that wouldn�t come. He moved down the hall, and she heard the sounds of him leaving. Steps growing muffled. Hand on the doorknob. Front door opening, then closing, too hard.

�Happy anniversary.� She looked back down at her robe.