The Leftovers

dinner.
    She’d invited him back to her room the very first night. After a bottle of wine at dinner and a giddy makeout session on the beach, it seemed like the polite thing to do. She wasn’t nervous taking her clothes off, didn’t ask him to turn out the light. She just stood there naked, soaking up his approval. Her skin felt like it was glowing.
    What do you think? she asked.
    Nice collarbones, he said. Pretty good posture, too.
    Is that all?
    Come to bed and I’ll tell you about the back of your knees.
    She climbed in, snuggling against him. His torso was a pale slab, reassuringly solid. The first time she’d hugged him, it had felt like she was embracing a tree.
    What about the back of my knees?
    Honestly?
    Yeah.
    His hand wandered down the back of her thigh.
    They’re a little clammy.
    She laughed and he kissed her and she kissed him back and that was it for the conversation. The only hitch came a few minutes later, when he tried to enter her and discovered she was too dry. She apologized, said she was out of practice, but he shushed her, licking his way down the center of her body, moistening her with his tongue. He took his time, letting her know it was all right to relax, coaxing her along an unfamiliar path until she stopped worrying about where it was leading and realized with a soft cry that she was already there, that something had loosened inside of her and something warm had come leaking out. When she caught her breath, she crawled down the bed and returned the favor, not thinking once about Doug or Kylie as she took him in her mouth, not thinking about anything at all until it was over, until he finally stopped whimpering and she was sure she’d swallowed every drop.
    *   *   *
    KEVIN FELT a brief flutter of suspense when the show was over and Nora closed her notebook.
    “Excuse me.” She covered her mouth, politely stifling a yawn. “I’m a little tired.”
    “Me, too,” he admitted. “It’s been a long day.”
    “It’s so cold out.” She gave a sympathetic shudder. “I’m sorry you have to go.”
    “I don’t have to,” he reminded her. “I’d love to stay here. I’ve been missing you.”
    Nora gave this some thought.
    “Pretty soon,” she told him. “I just need a little more time.”
    “We don’t have to do anything. We could just keep each other company. Just talk until we fall asleep.”
    “I’m sorry, Kevin. I’m really not up for it.”
    Of course you are, he wanted to tell her. Don’t you remember what it was like? How could you not be up for that? But he knew it was hopeless. The moment you started pleading your case, you’d already lost it.
    She walked him to the door and kissed him good night, a chaste but lingering send-off that felt like an apology and a rain check at the same time.
    “Can I call you tomorrow?” he asked.
    “Sure,” she said. “Call me tomorrow.”
    *   *   *
    NORA LOCKED the door and carried the wineglasses to the sink. Then she went upstairs and got ready for bed.
    I’m a terrible girlfriend, she thought as she brushed her teeth. I don’t know why I even bother.
    It was embarrassing, knowing that it was all her fault, that she’d volunteered for the position and misled Kevin into giving her the job. She was the one who’d invited him to Florida, after all, the one who’d managed to impersonate a functional, relatively cheerful human being for five days. By the end of the vacation, she’d almost started to believe that she actually was a functional, reasonably cheerful human being—the kind of person who might hold hands with another person under the table, or feed that other person little forkfuls of dessert—so she could hardly blame him for sharing in that misconception, or feeling confused and betrayed when she took it all back.
    But she wasn’t that person, not here in Mapleton anyway, not even close, and there was no use hiding from the truth. She had no love to give Kevin or anyone else, no joy or energy or insight. She was still broken, still missing some crucial parts. This knowledge had almost crushed her when she got back home, the unsupportable weight of her own existence, a lead-lined cape draped across her frail shoulders. Welcome home, Nora. It seemed so much heavier than she remembered, so much more oppressive, which was apparently the price you paid for sneaking out from under it for a few days. Did you have a nice trip?
     

THE OUTPOST
    ON A WINDLESS MORNING IN late January, with light snow