“The next great STD.” June stood. “I can’t watch any more of this. I need a smoke.”
She hoped she would feel better after a cigarette. She didn’t. She hoped she would feel better after she ate. She didn’t. She glowered at Sam every chance she got.
“I have to figure out a plan,” Sam told her. “You have to be patient.”
“I can’t be patient. My brother might have been alive when your spy saw him in that dude’s head, but that doesn’t mean he’ll stay that way.”
“If you think you could pass the time more easily in a coma, I’ll be glad to put you in one.”
“I'd like to see you try, tough guy.”
Sam planned to leave for the night and once again instructed them not to wander out of the room. They were allowed to call room service, but he told them not to pick up the phone if it rang.
“I won’t contact either of you by phone, ever,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.”
“So you’re just gonna leave us here,” June said.
“You’ll be safe. I keep refugees here all the time. I don’t need to hang out and baby sit; I’ll be back in the morning. Besides, don’t you two want to be alone?”
June scowled. “Good night.”
They made sleeping arrangements after Sam left. Micha inspected the bedroom. “There’s a huge bed. We can both sleep in here.”
June was harboring more than a touch of guilt. “No, that’s all right. You take it. I’ll sleep out here on one of the sofas.”
“That’s silly.” Micha walked out through the French doors. “I’ve been sleeping on a sofa all week. It sucks.”
“I know, it’s just…” She didn’t know what it was “just.”
She searched for some pillows and blankets and located said items in a closet near the door. Micha didn’t argue further. He stood and watched while she made up a bed for herself on one of the sofas.
“Are you feeling better?” she asked, avoiding his gaze.
“I guess so.”
She unfurled a blanket. “Glad one of us is.” She hesitated before saying, “I thought for a second earlier you were remembering your wife. Is anything coming back to you?”
“Hm. I…remember coffee.”
“Coffee?”
“I always took a thermos of coffee to seminars. The swill they serve at those things is awful. I think she made it for me. I was always raving about it. I seem to remember telling people she made it.”
June sat down on the sofa. “I guess that’s a start.” She had another knife fight with her guilt and once again, it stabbed her in the eye. “Guess we better try to get some sleep.”
“Yeah. Guess so.”
June was convinced she would never be able to fall asleep given the turmoil in her head, but her body, exhausted by stress and many previous nights of scant and sketchy sleep, decided otherwise.
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