She sits in the chair that faces the window, and eats cottage cheese and papaya for breakfast. I throw some rolled oats in a pot with some water. Stand at the stove and watch water boil.
Morning, she says. How did you sleep?
Under the covers. Head on a pillow.
Just comes naturally, doesn't it. Smartass. Soon as your feet hit the floor.
It’s a gift, I say.
Give it back, she says.
That papaya you're eating?
Want some, she asks.
No I don’t like papaya. Never have liked papaya.
What’s wrong with papaya?
It’s musky, I say. I don’t like musky fruit.
The oatmeal sticks to the bottom of the pot. I scoop what I can in a pink plastic bowl.
Fine, she says. More papaya for me. So how did you sleep?
I don’t feel like I did. Had a terrible dream—nightmare really—I lived, for some reason, with John Cassavettes and the place was just crawling with…not
…