Page 84 of Analysing Her Assets

“You’re so soft.” He breathed on her, and she gagged, smelling his evil saliva on his breath.

“Danny, let go, and don’t ever do it again,” she said, louder. He released her, and she stumbled backwards into the wet Ficus hedge of her building entrance. The wet branches scratched her back, drenching it.

“I made you dizzy, I bet Gideon never does. Bye, Feynman.”

She watched him walk away, unable to move. He turned back once and waved, awakening her from her stupor. She turned into her building and staggered up the stairs. She lost it completely on the first-floor landing where she threw up, over and over, tasting Danny’s arid spit on her bile.

41. Gideon

Gideon knocked on her door, thinking that they should exchange keys. They would, soon, after he’d told her of his resolution.

“Hey,” Tamar said and immediately turned away from him. Her cheeks were pale, her hair wet, plastered to her head. She wore a shapeless, oversized shirt and sweatpants. A lackluster odd welcome, quite unlike her enthusiasm from this morning. He’d ran here, as he did every morning, to be told, with her beautiful smile, that it was her turn tonight. After their one-day separation she was eager. He hadn’t imagined it.

Her usually tidy apartment looked out of sorts. There was an empty highball that wasn’t even in the sink but stood on her small kitchenette table. Giddy’s bowl held dirty remains, probably from his last meal. Unstapled pages were scattered on the table and the sofa.

Something was wrong.

“I’m sorry. I want to be left alone tonight. I should have texted you not to come.”

Yes, something was definitely wrong.

“You don’t feel well? Did Giddy eat this evening?” He crouched and took Giddy’s dirty dish.

“Yes.”

Gideon took the dish, rinsed and dried it. The herb plants above the kitchen sink looked parched, so he watered them.

“I feel okay. I just don’t want to do anything tonight. You should go.”

Her mouth was turned downwards, the resemblance to Tally uncanny. She was plopped next to Giddy, whose tail tapped merrily on the floor. She didn’t even try to be polite. It was only a five-minute walk from his house, but it was cold and wet outside.

He had come here, full of pent-up excitement, imagining this evening differently. His big announcement that he decided to leave Peaks had burned a hole in his chest for weeks, and it was finally time to share it with her. She would have the coveted chief analyst position, and the top spot in the competition. Although, to be fair, she was already in the lead.

Her dark head was lowered to Giddy, her wet hair hid her face. She was bossy and close mouthed, had a hard time discussing her feelings, and was occasionally quite bad tempered.

And he loved her to distraction.

Gideon put the kettle on.

“Tea?” he asked. She had never, ever said no to tea.

“Yes, thank you.”

She bought his favorite brand and stocked her cupboard, for him alone.

“Is it about your landlady banning dogs?” She patted Giddy, her mouth soft in a small smile. “I have a solution for that. I have a large balcony, enough space for Giddy with Shemesh. He spends the night every other night, anyway.” She didn’t respond.

He sat on the couch, placing her tea on a coaster. She climbed on the small sofa and reached for her tea. Her smell, he now knew it was her favorite body lotion, floated around him.

“He’ll shed all his hair in there. No need to clean here so much,” he added.

“I enjoy cleaning,” Tamar answered.

He hid his smile.

She got up, went to the sink and washed her hands, then her mouth. She got back to the couch, trying to sit as far from him as possible.

“Thank you for reading for my mother.” He arranged and stacked the pages. “She told me you had a way of immediately homing in on the important stuff, that you’re really helping her so much. You should know that good critique partners are essential to writers.”

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