A Wall of Fire
Copyright© 2011 by Robert McKay
Chapter 33
I got home that afternoon to find Cecelia sitting crosslegged on the sofa, reading one of her literary journals. She reads that stuff, and understands it too – and then likes my poetry. I'll never figure her out, but then I don't suppose marriage is necessarily about figuring out everything. It has to do with love at least as much as it has to do with perfect comprehension, if not more so.
I nodded at her when I came in the door, and then turned to hang my jacket and hat on the rack. When I turned back around she'd laid the magazine on the coffee table, and was looking at me with those bright eyes, slanted like a cat's. I don't know why some people have tilted eye sockets, but a few do, Cecelia among them, and I love it whenever I see it – and especially when I look at Cecelia.
I sat down next to her on the sofa, and she turned, her legs still curled underneath her, and gave me a kiss. Smoothing my mustache, she asked in a soft voice, "How are you?"
"Better – every day, a bit better. I saw Beth today."
"How is she?"
"She actually laughed at one point, and she seemed closer to normal when I left than when I got there. She fed me lunch, and carried on a normal conversation."
"She is recovering, then."
"Yeah. It might not be quick, and I'm sure it won't be easy, but I think she'll be okay."
"And so you are improving as well."
"Yeah – seeing Beth feel better makes me feel better."
"Then, I suppose, we could bring Darlia home. I'm sure she's enjoying this visit with Gacela, but I'm equally sure that she'll be glad to see us again. And I know you, my husband – that child has wrapped you around her finger, and seeing her will please you immensely."
I smiled at her, matching the smile she had on her face. "Whenever you're ready, C – I admit I do miss her."
"Very well. But I am not quite ready at this moment."