Page 38 of Rooster's Remorse

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She'd let me. She might fight me at first, but she would.

I know it standing here.

Ten years ago, I decided something for her, and it cost her everything.

I'm not doing it twice.

"Okay," I say.

She doesn't answer.

I go out into the courtyard.

It’s empty, the cold's got hold of my hands, and I stand in it anyway.

I can see her through the glass in the sunroom, sitting back down on that couch with her arms still around herself, and she doesn't turn the heater on, and she doesn't come inside.

I don't go back.

I end up by the garage door with the dog bowl at my feet, and there's already a skin of ice on it, and it isn't even ten o'clock.

I break it with my thumb.

Fuck, Mila.

How am I supposed to fix this?

CHAPTER SIX

Mila

The knock comes, and I'm already at the window with the cooler between me and the door.

I don't remember getting up.

My heart's going like a bird against a windshield.

"It's me," a woman says. "It's Lashes. I've got coffee, and I'm not coming in."

I don't say anything.

"I'm going to set it down out here and go stand over by the fire pit." Her voice stays on the other side of the glass. "You can come get it whenever."

Something scrapes on the slab.

Then boots on gravel, going away.

I stand there for a long time.

Through the window, she's got her back to me at the fire pit with her arms crossed and her chin down in her collar, no baby on her, looking out at the desert like it owes her money.

I open the door.

The coffee's on the ground in a mug with a rooster on it. Somebody's joke, or nobody's, and I look at it for four seconds before I pick it up.

It's hot enough to hurt.

I hold it in both hands and let it.

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