THE PHONE RINGS AND I REACH FOR IT, CLOUDY WITH SLEEP. The morning light is sharp, knives in my eyes.
“Hello,” Bride says. In the phone, not beside me, which is strange, but then again, she’s a strange girl, so I just say, “Hello.”
“Sleep well?”
“Yes. I had the weirdest dream,” I say, looking at where her body left a whisper of an imprint on the sheet.
“I’m wondering if you could meet me on the beach,” she says in an oddly businesslike tone.
I don’t mind that she doesn’t want to be flirtatious on the phone, so I don’t push my dream chat – I just ask what time, and she says as soon as possible.
Then I remember the c****m. “Is this about the c****m?” I say.
“How about you meet me in an hour?”
There’s a pill a young girl can take within the first forty-eight hours. I have no clue if a
