When we arrived downstairs, we found Jonathan sitting at the kitchen table, eating leftover Chinese and reading a biography of Maila Nurmi. I said hello and asked how he was feeling, and when I received no answer, I sat down close to him.
“Hi.” I tried again, and this time, he looked up and smiled at me.
“Maila Nurmi is my dream woman.”
I fought the urge to mention that she had died in 2008. That was probably something Vic didn’t need to know.
“She did have a certain something.” You didn’t have to have an eye for the opposite s*x to see the appeal. “You gotta like a girl who’s into horror movies.”
“They’re almost as good as the ones who hate horror movies and have to climb into your lap when they get scared.”
Yeah, Jonathan was slowly returning to the man I knew. The joy of it hit me
