When I wake up, it’s dark. Stewart is in the kitchen. I can see him through the door, in his boxers, lighting the stove and looking around for a pan. He asks me if I want scrambled eggs. He’s got the radio on and turns up “Sweet Emotion” when it plays.
I gather the comforter around my naked shoulders and go into the kitchen. I sit at the table. I remain silent, smiling, watching Stewart do a master chef impersonation. He’s dashing around. Putting cheese on the eggs. Making toast. Pretending to speak French. He’s having a great time.
Then, while the eggs spatter, he comes to me — the spatula still in one hand — bends over, holds my face, and kisses my forehead.
“If you could see how adorable you look right now,” he says to me.
I smile happily and he kisses me again on the top of the head.
“You know what I’ve been thinkin’?” he says to me.
“What’s that?”
“I’m gonna dye my hair black.”
“This girl…from down the street. She’s a hairdresser. She said she’d do me for free if I wanted.”
I nod. “But blondes have more fun,” I say.
“They do, don’t they?” he says, grinning back toward me.
I smile at him. Then I pull the old comforter closer around my shoulders.
The girl down the street, I think. She’ll do me for free.
But no, I can’t get like that. I can’t be jealous. I won’t be.
Stewart risks getting pulled over and drives me all the way back to the MAX train afterward in his broken-down pickup. We talk off and on. He manages to never mention that we just slept together. Or what that might mean. Instead he tells me about fixing motorcycles with a guy who has a little garage outside Centralia. It might turn into an actual job.
Then he sees me playing with his grandmother’s ring.
“The ring!” he says. “You still have it!”
“Of course I still have it,” I say. “What did you think?”
“And you’re wearing it. That’s so awesome.”
“Just until you got back. Do you want it?”
“No way. You keep it. That way I know it’s safe.”
“You gotta take it back at some point. It’s yours.”
“It’s both of ours now. Don’t you think?”
“No. It’s your grandmother’s,” I say, turning it around on my finger. “I’m just holding it for you.”
He grins at me then. “I can’t think of a better place for it.”
“Really?” I say.
“Totally,” he says.
And for a moment, everything seems perfect again.