Rose was dressed in the periwinkle dress. She liked this one the most because with the bra, the breast form and the dress's shoulder pads, it was almost impossible to tell what she looked like underneath. She was much thinner than she had been. She was dressed and Lilly had helped her fix her hair in victory curls. Round rolls upwards on the sides of her face. She had make up on and Lilly had painted her nails. She looked pretty again. She was different, more fragile, but pretty.

She was sitting at the desk in Nick's room, thumbing through her mail which had piled up over the last month. She noticed that amongst the Christmas Cards there was a small envelope with Ed O'Neil's handwriting on it. Rose looked at the block letters: MRS. ROSE MILLER. She looked away and glanced around the room. Any feeling that had once flowed through her had dried up. She no longer felt the pangs of excitement or curiosity. In fact, she only resented once having felt the passion that she had for Ed, or even for Nick. She looked back over time and saw that person, those feelings and all she could summons  was anger. She rubbed her fingers against her lips slowly. It is hard to open the card with only one good hand; it was almost impossible. She sat and balanced her right hand on the desk. With that hand, she placed the card within the left. With the aid of the table, she could steady the card and work the letter opener through the top of the envelope. She removed a card from inside. She looked at it for a moment. She could see that it was on sketch paper. Immediately she recognized it as one of Ed's paintings, a small watercolor. It was a pretty scene from her garden. The rustic grape arbor was letting yellow light through the green leaves. Shadows cast different shades across the cement bench. It looked quiet, serene, empty. He didn't sign the picture. Rose stared at it for a moment and it made her feel melancholy. It made her feel so sad that she didn't even want to read what he'd written. She wished it had somehow not been delivered. Why was it so upsetting? She turned and looked out  the window at the spider branches of the gum tree. The sky was a faint blue and she could see that through the branches there were some ill defined white clouds here and there. The gum tree prickly balls remained on the branches. "The seeds," Daniel had told her a long, long time ago. The seeds were in those prickly balls.  Rose watched the wind blow through the tree. It had been so long since she had been outside. So long that she had been in this room.

She looked down at the little card. She held it up closer. It was amazing to see how much the picture resembled the arbor in early summer. The light was exactly the same. It scared her, how much Ed had noticed. She opened the card.

Dear Rose,

Carmen told me that you have been ill. I tried coming to your house a few months back, mostly to apologize for what happened, and then I find out about this. And, I am so worried for you, Rose. All Carmen said was that you have been ill. I knew you must be with Nick's parents since you weren't at home. Your house has been dark for a long time. What could have happened for you to leave your home? Please know that you are in my thoughts. Merry Christmas.

Your dear friend,

Ed O'Neil

Rose placed the letter on the table. She looked down at it. She pressed her fingers to her lips and patted a few times. Your dear friend? For some reason a thought crossed her mind, "It is for me to decide who is a dear friend. No one calls themselves someone's dear friend." She thought of how presumptuous and arrogant he had always been. How inconsiderate he was now. He had no idea how sick she'd been; he was invading her family's privacy and reputation. But, the truth was, what was worse was, that she dreaded seeing him again, running into him at Lepzig, the sellwood grocery, or for him to show up at a garden club meeting. She would feel so much shame, it would paralyze her. She would never be able to hide her right arm or her hand. And, no matter how she might look in her new brassiere and clothes, she knew what was underneath—and he would know. It was a horrible secret. And despite their short acquaintance, Ed could almost read her mind. He would look at her and ask her, "what is it, my love? What's happened to you?" A fear so strong burst through her, she thought she would not be able to catch a breath. The idea that he would find out what had happened. She was so ashamed of herself. She put the card down and reached for another. She now could maneuver the envelope opener better, now that she had figured out how to use the support of the table. It was a card from family friends, the Worthingtons. Rose absentmindedly looked at the front of the card with  a black lantern with a single lighted candle inside. An embossed green ivy border surrounded the front. Rose ran her fingers across the raised ivy leaves. She could see the picture and feel the paper's texture. But, really she was feeling so sick about herself and the possibility that there was someone who knew her intimately. Who just a short time ago had touched her. If she were simply a widow there would be no evidence that she had those sorts of feelings.

Rose frowned and looked out of the window. She looked back down at the Worthingtons' card. On the inside was printed "May a glowing, happy Christmastide start a year that's filled with cheer!" It was signed in Mrs. Worthington's neat script: Clarence, Mary, Annie and Charles. Rose let out a heavy breath and slapped the card down as though it were the Worthingtons' family Christmas card that was causing her such anguish.

Her mind turned back to the card from Ed. She picked it up again. She opened the desk drawer and placed it inside. She closed the drawer and sat for a moment. Then she thought better of it. She took the letter out and walked over to the closet. Lilly had stacked most of Nick's books in there, all of the literature he had loved. Rose knew why. There was more of Nick in the paper backs and hardcover than in anything else he'd owned. She opened one of Nick's books and placed Ed's letter inside of it. She closed the closet door. She started to sit back down and then she got out of her chair again. She returned to the closet and picked the book back up. She wanted to hide the book with Ed's card in the middle of the stack. She lifted several books and put them on the ground. She placed the book with the letter down on top of the pile. She was about to stack the other three or four on top, but she felt a yearning. She wanted to be able to find it again. She looked down and noted the author: Ernest Hemingway. The Fifth Column and the First 49 stories. The cover was red and white and there was no picture, just the title. She flipped the book open and started to place the letter inside. When she did, some of the story grabbed her attention:

Don't pay attention, darling, to what I say. I love you. I've never loved anyone else the way I love you.

Rose shook her head. "Hmm," Rose sneered aloud. She continued reading the passage.

He slipped into the familiar lie that he made his bread and butter by.

She shook her head and read it again. The words in the story grabbed her attention. She liked the idea of being inside of a man's thoughts. She had never seen this story before. Nor, had she remembered Nick reading it. She had heard him speak of Ernest Hemingway before, but didn't remember this book or story. She sat down on the wooden floor of the closet. Nick's shirts and pants hung above her. Boxes were stacked in the back of the closet close to the eves. Rose flipped back to the start of the story. It was called, "the snows of Kilimanjaro." She sat on her knees on the dusty floor and read the story without pause. When she finished it, she closed the cover and stared at it in silence for a long time. It was such a eerie coincidence that she would have found this book and opened to that particular story. It was so profoundly bizarre that she could not identify any feeling inside of her at all. Instead, her mind returned to parts of the story. The beginning. A man dying of an infected leg. The woman, his wife or his lover. Someone who he had lied to, tricked to get her patronage.

Rose found the main character despicable. Although the stories had so many relevances to her own life, she couldn't help thinking about what a horrible person the man was. He was mean, and bitter and angry. She couldn't admit that she was glad that he had died because his death must have been so similar to Nick's. Of course, she thought about Nick losing his leg, growing sicker and eventually dying from the infection like the man in the story. In this moment, she wished she knew Nick's last words. Then, she thought of herself waking from the operation. How everything had been confused, almost peaceful. And, how tempting the delirious sleep had been and how easy it was to succumb to it. Death must be the same, she thought.

Rose heard a faint knock on the door. She was still holding the book and Ed's letter on her lap. She was still sitting on the floor of the closet. The bedroom door opened slowly and it was Lilly. Lilly's eyes searched the room for Rose, first the bed then the rest of the room. Finally they landed on Rose, sitting down in Nick's closet.

"What are you doing, darling?" Lilly asked. "Are you looking for something?"

"No. I was just--" Rose realized that there was no explanation. 'I was jut looking at a book. Reading a story."

"I was just surprised to see you there. In the closet." Lilly closed the door behind her and walked slowly over to Rose.

Before she spoke, Rose knew Lilly had something secretive, or out of the ordinary to say. Rose could tell by the way Lilly was acting. Lilly adjusted her skirt, then brushed her hair back.

"Someone is here, Rosie."

Rose raised her eyebrows. Lilly held out her a hand helped Rose up to her feet.

"Who?" Rose asked.

Lilly lowered her voice to a whisper, "It is a man. He says he is a friend of yours. His name is Mr. O'Neil."

Rose could feel her eyes grow large. Instinctively she reached to pull her blouse tighter to her chest.

"Why is he here?" Rose asked almost accusing Lilly of some conspiracy.

"Sweetheart, I don't know." Lilly put her hand on Rose's left arm. "Do you want me to tell him to leave?"

Rose thought for a moment. Then, she realized that this may be the best way for her to tell him to please stay out of her life. She could take a walk with him, or sit and have tea and explain, somehow that his attention was so very hurtful; seeing him was painful. Certainly he would understand that. It would be easier, there at Lilly's house without a public situation.

"I'll talk to him," Rose said. Lilly lifted her hand and tucked in some of Rose's hair that had loosened from one of her curls. She looked at Rose.

"You look very pretty Rose."

Rose smiled at her. Lilly looked her over. "Here," she said, "let me fix your slip for you."

Ed was sitting in the living room. He had his wool coat in his lap. He was staring at his hands but looked up as Rose entered the room. He stood when he saw Rose and Lilly approach. He  put his coat on the couch next to where he had been sitting. Rose could tell that he had the urge to run over her. To touch her and make sure she was alive, but he had the same restraint that he had at the museum when he'd first noticed her outside of his classroom.

Lilly stood for a moment and then said softly, "Well, I'll let you be Rosie. Call me if you need anything." Rose knew that the situation didn't sit right with Lilly. Lilly would have offered coffee or brought out some apple bread, been more hospitable. But, she didn't. She just walked silently out of the room.

After she left Rose stood awkwardly for a moment.

"Hi," he said and then walked towards her. He immediately looked at her right hand and then averted his gaze. He didn't comment on it. Rose put it behind her back and then gripped the fabric of her skirt. She couldn't say anything. She didn't know why. She –in that moment—didn't feel any particular familiarity or feelings towards him.

"Would you like something to drink?" She asked.

"No." he said, "Don't bother Lilly. I can't stay long."

"Oh," she said. "Well, why don't you sit down."

"Would you like to walk?" he asked. Then, he corrected himself, "I mean, is it all right to go outdoors?"

"I suppose." She said. "That sounds fine."

They walked to the foyer. She opened the coat closet and reached for a coat with her left hand. Then, she realized that she wouldn't be able to get it on by herself. She stopped and bit her lip. She looked at him for a moment.

"What is it?" he asked her.

"I don't feel like a walk," she finally said. Ed stared at the coat for a moment.

"Can I help you with your coat?" he asked. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes. She could feel her teeth clenching, and a lump form in her throat. She was so embarrassed. This was why she didn't want to see him at all.

"No." she said sternly, "I don't feel like a walk."

"All right," he said gently. "Can we sit for a minute?"

"Ed, the only reason I wanted to see you was to tell you that—After I got your note, and after Carmen told me you were at the garden club—"

"Yes, I wanted to talk to you..."

"I don't want you near anymore. I can't have you sending me letters or—I don't want to see you or run into you. I am sure we can arrange that." She said it with such seriousness that he looked down at the floor and didn't look up for a long time. 

When he finally looked up at her, his eyes looked gray. They were deep and serious. "Why?"

"What do you want from me?" She said softly. The room seemed to absorb her sound. Lilly's house was different than her own. It was more modern with upholstered furniture and café curtains. A colorful rug was on the floor.

"Why don't we go for a walk?" He asked, "Can we do that?"

"No." she said. "No. Can you please respect my wishes?" She started to cry but stopped herself.

"Why do you feel this way?"

She stared at him for a long moment. She didn't know what she would have done if she hadn't had the surgery. If she wasn't this vile creature beneath her clothes. But, she was. But, even if she didn't look the way she did, she would have enough legitimate excuses not to see him. She wondered which one she should use. More, she wondered which one would work.

She looked at his white shirt. She could see the lines of his t-shirt underneath. In that moment, Rose could see different parts of him, like light reflected in a prism. The artist—the real Ed she thought—the lover, the frightened boy. She couldn't see the husband or the father. For a split second, it crossed her mind that she could put her coat on and walk outside with him. She imagined that he might be able to make her feel better. But, to get to that feeling, if it were there at all would be impossible. Any attempt at love or romance would be met with horrible rotting flesh. The same gangrene that the man in the story had. The thing that was eating his leg, that smelled so rotten. She was all of that and worse.

She looked up and he was still staring at her.

"I'm not your wife. Do you understand that?"

He looked at her and couldn't help but shake his head. His eyes turned to the ground. "I know you're not my wife." He said softly, "I know that."

"Well, that's how you assume you can act with me. Its unkind."

He put his hand to his chin and rubbed is lower lip with this thumb for a moment. He looked away and thought about it. Then he looked up at her with a certain look. "Rose, I want to be your friend." He said. It was the only time she had heard him sound like that. He sounded sincere.

"Why?" she asked.

"Let me help you put your coat on, Rose. Let me take you for a walk."

She could feel her eyes welling up again. She stared into his eyes as they did. Her lip started to tremble and finally the tears fell down her cheeks. She swallowed, "Ok, "she said. "Ok. My arm is hurt." She said softly and when she did she felt so much shame it was almost unbearable.

"I know," he said to her. He opened the closet and removed her coat. He held for her and gently put the right sleeve over her arm. Then he held the coat up and she put her left arm inside of it. He moved in front of her and without a word, he latched the hooks on the front of the coat.

"There," he said.

She couldn't help but smile. She felt even more protected in the long wool coat.

He opened the front door, and for the first time since returning from the hospital she was back outside. It was strange for Rose not to have been a part of the changing seasons. Most of the fall she had kept her drapes drawn. And, so time passed in a dull stasis. Now, she was out again and even though everything had died since she had been apart from the outdoors, she felt stronger, just being outside. She didn't say anything to Ed. She was almost more taken with the bare trees, the one or two dried leaves that somehow hung on to a branch here and there. And, now she was under the gum tree. She looked up and saw all the prickly seed pods. She stepped over them, and the bumpy balls felt delightful under her shoe.

Lilly and Daniel lived in near the bluff in Sellwood. Rose looked down the tree lined street. The sky was gray and the bare branches made the scene look wintery. Most of the houses had wreaths on the doors and there were little lighted candles in many of the windows. The ground was soft and mushy. The air was getting colder.

"Are you up for walking to the park?" Ed asked. The park was only two blocks. Rose could feel herself getting winded even by this short walk. She still hadn't gotten her strength back, but the fresh air felt good.

"Maybe we can sit for a minute when we get there?"

Neither one of them said anything, they just walked slowly together in silence. When they got closer to the park, Rose said, "I read a short story this afternoon." She looked at Ed.

"Oh really, what did you read?"

"Do you know Ernest Hemingway?" She asked.

He smiled a little and squinted one eye. "Yeah."

"I found one of Ed's—I mean Nick's books..." She felt embarrassed that she had mixed up their names. But, Ed didn't react to her slip up. "it was a book of stories. It was entirely by accident. I just opened up to a page and then there it was."

"Which story was it?" They were now entering the park. Rose could see that the field was very muddy. There was a bench near the road, right next to them as they entered the park. Rose didn't want to muddy her shoes or her new dress walking through the field.

"Can we sit here?" she asked.

"Right by the road?"

Rose looked at him, "I don't want to cross the muddy field." She said.

He motioned for her to sit down and she did. Her sat down next to her, but not too close.

"What was the story?" he asked. He was looking intently at her, but he wasn't acting like he used to act towards her. Rose felt a little rejected. She felt as if he sensed all that she had lost and now she wasn't a woman to him any more. She was someone that he would sit and talk to as a sister. Or, maybe as another man. Even though she had wanted him to stay away, it was so that she wouldn't feel the feelings she had. She was afraid it would be too hurtful to be desired, knowing what had become of her body.

"Do you remember?" he asked.

"What?" she said, "Do I remember what?" Rose felt suddenly so small that she wanted to be back in Nick's bedroom again, under the covers and waiting for Henry to come in. Right then she longed to hold Henry in her arms.

"the story...."

"Oh, it was a very strange coincidence that I found it. It was about a man who lost his leg. He was a horrible man. It was in the mountains. Do you know the story?"

Ed nodded. He didn't seem to have an opinion about it.

"Do you think it is a good story?" Rose asked.

Ed shrugged his shoulders and looked at her. He held his hands up as if to say I don't know. "What did you think?" he asked.

She looked at him for a long time. She didn't want to talk about the story any more. "Why did you come here?" she finally asked. The wind blew a cold gust and the sky turned darker.

Ed looked down at his hands, then back at Rose. "I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry."

"You didn't have to," she said.

"Yes. I did," he said. "I'm sorry for how I treated you and I'm sorry for what happened to you."

"Do you know what happened to me?" she asked him. She squinted her eyes a little and bit her lip.

"Yes," he said softly, "Carmen told me." Rose looked at the sky. She was so separate from her body that she almost felt herself floating into the heavens. She had shown Carmen her scar and her chest. Carmen knew how horrible it was. She imagined how Carmen had described it. The grotesqueness of it. And, to Ed.

"Carmen had no right to tell you that." Rose said.

"It wasn't her fault."  The way he said it made Rose mad. She imagined the clandestine conversation between them. The unexpected intimacy. Ed's relentless seductions. His inability to control himself.

"Why do you keep doing this to me? What do you want from me?" Rose asked, "Really? Why?"

"What am I doing, Rose?" And, the way he said Rose made her feel angrier.

He looked at her for a long moment. He didn't break his stare. "I am deliberately not saying the things I feel, Rose." He said.

She let down her shoulders and looked away, but he kept talking. "So I will just say the truth without it seeming like I'm trying to seduce you."

She turned back to him quickly. She had been right. The mention of romantic feelings sent such a strong and urgent panic pumping through her blood that she couldn't bear it. She hurt so deeply and her body was so deformed. Rain started to come down gently from the sky. Ed looked up into the sky with a mild irritation.

Rose held up her left hand as if to say "stop." Then, she said, "please don't say anything to me." She felt as if she had to say anything to get him to stop. "I'm not angry with you. I forgive you for the time under the bridge. All of that. I understand how you felt. And I appreciate your concern for my health—"

"Rose," he said, "let me say this."

"No." she said, "You don't know what I –" but she couldn't think of the way to describe it without revealing more.

He reached for her, but she could see that he was afraid to touch her. Afraid he might hurt her. She stood up and started walking back. It was so unexpected that he called "Rose, wait a minute!" He stood up and followed her.

"You are married," she said. Ed was still trailing behind her.

"That didn't stop you before," he said back to her. She picked up her pace and was almost caught up with her.

"That's wonderful," she said. "'What a wonderful person that makes me!"

Finally, he gently grabbed her left arm and stopped her for a moment. "Just wait." He said.

"All right," she said. "You can say what you have to say, if you just promise to stay away afterwards." 

He let his shoulders drop. "Fine," he said.

"Although I can't believe anything you say."

He looked at her seriously. The wind blew his hair and for an instant she longed to place her hand on his cheek. She realized that she really did love him. She closed her eyes and then opened them again.

"Firstly, I'm sorry," he said.

"I know you are, you told me that."

"Second." He stopped. His face turned flush. "I don't know how to censor myself with you—"

She could feel the feelings rise up in her heart. With him, it was a kind of humor. His way, touched her. "Just try," she said. She could feel herself growing lighter.

"I don't do this with a lot of women. I am not a seducer as you have always accused me of being."

"You're not?"

"No."

"Why are you out here with me now?"

"I'm not trying to seduce you."

"No, but you did already. That's exactly what you did in the past."

He looked at the ground and then pursed his lips, "that's not fair." He moved his hand from her arm, and held her hand softly. "Carmen said this was serious."

Rose looked down at the ground and then back at Ed.

His voice softened."Can I come back to the house with you? We could have some tea and just talk for a while?" 

Rose thought about it. Henry would be home and so would Lilly and Daniel. How would she explain Ed to Henry?

"Don't you have to get home?"

"No." Ed said. He didn't offer any more information.

"Ed, I can't—"

"I just want to sit with you and talk to you. Can we do that, Rose?"

When they walked back into the house, Daniel were sitting on the sofa by the fireplace with Henry. Daniel was reading a book to him. Henry was sitting with his head against Daniel's chest. His bare socks rested on the arm of the couch and Rose thought how small those little feet looked. It was sweet. The Christmas tree lights were on and the house smelled of baked chicken. It has always been that whenever Rose walked into the Miller's house; she felt as if she were walking into the past, into Nick's childhood, or her own adolescence back to the time when she first met the family. Daniel looked up when they entered the house. Ed helped Rose unlatch her coat and take it off. He removed his own coat and hung them both in the closet.

Henry stood up and ran over to Rose "Mommy!" he yelled and put his arms around her waist. Rose knelt down and gave him a big hug with her left arm. "What are you reading, darling?" she said in a voice loud enough for just him. She put her cheek against his and kissed him.

"Horton hatches an egg! Grand papa is saying funny voices. Do you think an elephant can really hatch an egg?"

"No I don't love." She wished she could lift him to her arms and hold his chest close to hers, but she couldn't. "Listen Henry, I have a friend I want you to meet."

Henry looked up at Ed and smiled. "Hello," Henry said in a soft, shy voice, "Its nice to meet you.". Then, he sort of slunk back to Daniel. Daniel stood and walked over to Ed.

"I'm Daniel Miller,"

"Dad," Rose said, "This is Ed O'Niel. He's a friend of mine from the garden club."

"Oh?" Daniel said. When he did he sort of puckered his mouth and then frowned. His eyes looked Ed up and down. But, he didn't smile.

"He's an artist. So, he sketches flowers and does illustrations."

"Its nice to meet you," Ed said and held out his hand.

Reluctantly, Daniel shook it.

"We have some catching up to do. Would it be all right if we went into the study?" Rose asked.

"Of course, Its your house too, Rose." Daniel said.

"Mommy, will you put me to bed tonight? Read me a story?"

"Yes Henry." She said and blew him a kiss, "Of course, darling."

Rose led Ed into the study. She felt awkward about the welcome from Daniel. Ordinarily Daniel was much friendlier. He would have offered Ed a drink, wanted to talk with him a bit. Actually, Rose didn't know about that. She had never brought a boy or man over here. This was her husband's house. Of course, it was different since Nick was killed, but Daniel must still feel that way about her.

The study was a large room with floor to ceiling French doors across one wall. The floor had octagon jade-colored tile and a deep brown Oriental rug. The rug had cream and green patterns. The room overlooked the bluff which was visible now that the leaves had all fallen. The sky had cleared and the dusk it was growing a pinkish orange. There was a couch and two comfortable chairs. It was Rose's favorite room in the house.

"I'm sorry that Lilly and Daniel aren't more welcoming" she said to Ed.

"They are much more gracious than I would expect they should be." He said.

"Why don't' you sit down. Can I get you a drink? Are you hungry? I could make you a sandwich?" Rose asked him.

"A drink would be great." He said.

"I'll make myself one too," she said and smiled. She walked over to the liquor cabinet and opened the glass doors. She removed a decanter and poured scotch into two glasses. She filled the rest of the glass with water. That was a task that didn't require two hands; she didn't feel self conscious.

"Do you drink?" He asked, "I didn't know that."

"Not really," she said, "almost never." She carried Ed's glass over to him and then retrieved her own before she joined him. .

"Scotch?" he said. His eyes sparkled and he smiled at her. "You're very funny." He said.

She could feel herself blushing, "Am I?"

"Yes, Rose you are. You are a very unique woman. How is it that I have never seen you drink and when I do your having a glass of scotch?"

She sat down next to him. "Maybe you don't really know me." She said taking a sip.

"Maybe," he said and smiled uncomfortably. "I have to tell you something and I have to show you something," He said seriously.

"All right." She said. "What is it?"

"Margaret went to California for a while," he said. He took a sip of the scotch and winced a little. She wasn't sure if if was from the liquor or the conversation.

'Do you want more water in it?" she asked reaching for the glass.

"No. It's fine. She went because I told her about what happened."

"What?" Rose said, thinking he had told her about the surgery, about her body. She could feel the stretched skin over her ribs and the sweat forming under the breast form. It was still there, a part of her. "What did you tell her. What happened?"

"When you thought you were pregnant."

"Oh" Rose said and slipped deeper into the couch and took a drink.

"its not an easy situation," he said looking deeply into her eyes. "and its not your fault."

"I'm sorry," Rose said, "she must have been very hurt."

"I didn't know why you were sick Rose." He said to her. He looked at her intently.

"What did you think?"

"All I knew was that you were pregnant. That's what I thought. Then, I thought maybe you did—"

Rose felt sick to her stomach. 'No," she whispered.

"Before that. What you said to me on the phone. I decided to tell Margaret. To...I don't know."

Rose sat for a moment. She didn't know what to say. She felt as if his marriage were his responsibility. It was not her problem to solve. She straightened her skirt and took another sip. The warm liquor burned her throat. She rubbed her neck with her hand. She could feel the alcohol making her grow flush. She looked at the hem of her skirt for a long time.

"Rose," he said softly.

She looked at him.

"My marriage," he said. "Its not..it isn't like yours was."

"What do you mean?" Rose asked.

"I'm really not a seducer."

Rose smiled. She could feel the scotch loosening her muscles, her limbs. It made her feel a little dizzy. Rose couldn't say she agreed with him. Not that she felt she was a victim. She didn't understand some of the things he had said to her. Outside of the moment that they were spoken they seemed very scripted. She took another sip and looked down into her glass.

"Can you look at me for a moment, Rose" he asked gently.

She looked up at him and her eyes met his, "what is it?" she asked.

"I don't...when I look at you tonight, I don't feel like you are with me anymore."

"What do you mean?" Rose said, but she knew what he meant. She couldn't feel passionate any more. She couldn't fall into his eyes and surrender. That was why he couldn't help himself before, she had moved with him and her desire was so present.

"How long is she gone for? " Rose finally asked. "What are you two going to do?"

Again she could see that he was searching her eyes for some evidence that she still loved him, but all Rose could feel was the searing shame and the secret that was concealed under her clothes.

He didn't answer her and he just kept looking into her eyes, trying to find her again.

"It hurts too much," she said.

"It doesn't matter," He said.

Rose raised her eyebrows and felt herself becoming angry.

"I don't mean that what happened to you doesn't matter." he said,  "Of course it does. I mean, I really do love you."

Her left hand fingers touched her right arm. It was cold and swollen. She couldn't believe that part of her was lovable. She hated it so much.

"What's going to happen to you Rose?" He asked and again he sounded like a child.

"I don't know," she said.

"What did they say?"

"I don't know." She answered.

"What do you mean?"

"it all happened so quickly." Rose stared into the oriental rug. She squinted her eyes so the green and brown blurred. "I was sick, and they were going to see if it was cancer and then this..."

"What?" Ed asked.

"Didn't Carmen tell you?"

He shook his head. "No."

She looked up at him and turned her head to one side. She stared at him for a long time, but no feeling came over her. She liked him. She decided she liked him, but her body didn't work any more. Not in that way. As far as Rose predicted it would never work that way again.

"Can you tell me?" he asked her.

Rose cleared her throat. "Just be my friend, all right. And then you won't need to know."

He swallowed down the last of his drink, again he winced. She smiled at him.

He looked up at her and raised his eye brows. "What is it?"

"You're funny" she said. She held up her drink. "Do you want the rest of mine?"

"No thanks," he said. "I don't want to just be friends." 

Rose couldn't tell him about her body. It was the more shameful than anything she could ever imagine. She hated herself. She felt like she was an animal. No, worse. She felt that she had no right to be loved, or touched.

"What did you want to show me?" she said changing the subject.

"You won't tell me what happened? You don't feel those feelings for me anymore?"

"I don't think so," Rose said. And it was matter of fact, it was sisterly. She looked at him closely. She looked at his button down shirt and the t-shirt underneath. He was starting to look more ordinary again, like he had when they first had met. Before she really knew him.

"I want to touch your face." He said. He seemed so hurt.

"It hurts me," she said and looked down.

"How do you know?" he asked "How do you know it will hurt you?"

"You can see my hand, this part of my arm." She said matter of factly. "how does that look to you?"

He looked at her arm. "It looks hurt."

"And ugly" she said.

"No," he disagreed, "It looks like it hurts you. And that hurts me. But it isn't ugly."

She suddenly felt mad. Not at him, but just angry. "well my whole arm looks like that. Except near the shoulder." Her voice started to crack and tears filled her eyes, "then its all bone. All the way down, down to my stomach."

His eyes grew large and he looked as if he might be sick. "why?" he asked.

"So I wouldn't die." She said, and she started crying.

"Did they remove everything?"

She looked up at him slowly, "what?"

"Is it all over?"

She stopped crying and looked at him.

"Are you going to get sick again or have they gotten it all?" he asked. Then, he grew very composed and serious. His manner changed. And, this is what Rose had expected all along. She was glad that she hadn't felt anything for him. She was glad that she didn't trust him. He stood up and walked over to the window looking out over the bluff. It was almost night time. She remembered him standing up under the Burnside Bridge, every now and again a car roaring overhead. Ed walking down to the river in silence. Ignoring her when she called him. She remembered him driving off and leaving her standing in front of her house, believing that she was pregnant. What else would he have thought. Leaving her there. She was glad that she didn't love him any more.

"Well, we'll just have to go very slowly" he finally said, not turning at first from the window."We'll have to get you better and as far as the feelings go. We'll just have to start slowly. I'll just have to wait for you, Rose." He turned from the window and smiled at her. It was a friendly smile with no flirtatiousness. "I'm afraid I'll have to show you what I brought another time."

"What is it? She asked. Her voice sounded weary.

"Now is not the time."