ON SATURDAY, ONE OF the chief residents rounded with Gwen’s interns so she could have a day off. Rick was already out running when she awoke. Eva wouldn’t be up for hours. Gwen got of bed and made coffee. She sat at the kitchen table, mulling over the strategy she had settled on. The more she considered it, the sounder it seemed. She was going to be living for her daughter and lover now. Their inner peace mattered more than hers. She could be oblivious to the uncertainty of her own fate as long as she was sure they were all right. It was a relief to have clarity at last. Gwen was ready to put her plan into action.
She went to a neighborhood pharmacy. Avoiding all eye contact, she purchased a packet of condoms. When she came home, Rick was at the kitchen table, grading history quizzes. She sat next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. He gave her a long inquiring look and returned to work. She sat still, trying to be mindless, unable to sustain it. She stroked his calf. He stretched languidly. Her hand drifted to his back. He kept marking papers. She kissed him on the neck.
Rick let go of his red pen. They rose as a unit, moved to the bedroom, undressed, and lay down wrapped around each other. She wanted sex but was too scared to take pleasure in it. Rick felt the tension in her thighs, the absence of her familiar abandon. He stopped moving. Gwen nestled under his arm. She began to cry softly.
“It’s going to be OK,” he said. “We’ll get through this. We will.”
Looking up, she saw his wet eyes and believed him.