Page 10 - My FlipBook

of water to the table, assuming someone else is on their
way. And now the glass of water is sitting there with the
cake and the empty chair. And then after a while she comes
by again and says, “Can I get you anything else?” And I
say no thanks, just the check. And she says, “Do you want
to take that home?” And the word home does something
funny to me. It kind of stabs me and I can’t talk so I nod
and she gives me a to-go box and the check and walks away.
And I open the to-go box and time shifts into slow motion.
For a few seconds, I’m just looking at this open box, which
is waiting for the cake. And then when I pick up the piece
of cake to put it in, the body of the cake feels so perfect. It
doesn’t fall apart or break. It holds its shape, and it’s like I’m
picking up a little baby, and I’m setting it in the box, and
the way it feels when I let go and the cake comes to a rest
in the box is killing me. It fits perfectly in the box and it’s
killing me, Lacy. I have to close the fucking lid and I just
sit there and stare at it.

Olivia closes her eyes tight, and Lacy can hear her
breath coming in shallow bits.

OLIVIA: Goddamn it, Lacy. I need a drink.

Olivia gets up.

LACY: Liv . . . don’t.

In his grave, Sam feels the tension of Lacy’s distress,
her thwarted desire for her sister to stay. He wakes up and
looks out.

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