The first night after we fought I stayed at the local Holiday Inn (aaafter party!), and ever since I’ve been on a futon mattress on the floor of my friend Tamar’s spare room. It’s otherwise empty, except for my piles of clothes, comb and toothbrush, and the two windows open to a large leafy tree that shifts and rustles in the night like a large sleeping bird.
I don’t know what happens next. Everything has been thrown into the air, scattered, dissected daily. When do I move back in? Or when do I leave entirely? Do we talk today, or take the evening off, think of other things, regroup during the hurricane of some other name? But one thing I can say, is that I sleep through the nights here, and I haven’t been anxious.