There’s a shake on my shoulder. I open my eyes— and I’m looking straight at a phone showing me sitting on the sleeper and George curled up in the chair. “Holy— You took pictures!”
Lena is sitting on the edge of the bed and I’m sitting up and feel the sheets slide off me. She glances at me and says, “Yup. Here, let me show you.” Did she blush?
We flick through the pictures. For some of them, she must have made awkward stretches to get that perspective and still touch me. There are a few where she took the same picture with and without touching me. The contrast between the soft, uniform light and the glare of the phone’s flash is like shouting how weird this all is. “Clever”, I tell her, “It really shows off that weird light too.” She smiles.
The last one is a little video of me taking George back to his side. I ignore our bare backsides and watch the swirls in the barrier as we pass through. “Oh, nice! I was wondering what that looked like from the outside.”
Should I say it? “And thanks for filming that transit.”
She turns red as a beet. So she did watch. I tap her nose lightly. “It’s OK. We knew that would happen.”
She leans a little toward me, stops, then takes my finger and points it at the bathroom door.
“How about we know you’re going to get showered and dressed so we can have breakfast. I’ve been up most of the night, and I’ve only had thoughts to chew on.”
She’s in the way and I’m not going to get out in just the briefs right now. “It would help if you’d get off the bed and hand me the bathrobe.”