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Show 146 When he woke up sometime later Yvonne was already moving around in the kitchen. He heard her opening cupboards and rattling spoons, occasionally bumping into a chair. She had not once during the night, that he could remember, offered to make peace. She had not wakened him with the hand on his groin that was her usual gesture of reassurance when the tone of the night had been ambiguous. She had not even paced naked in front of her closet for his pleasure while deciding what to wear. He climbed from the bed feeling, as usual first thing in the morning, ill, and made his way into the bathroom, where a glance at the dripping walls and clouded mirror and the stark chill of dank air on his shoulders confirmed the worst. He went to the kitchen and stood in the doorway. "Maybe you have a train to catch," he said. She looked at him without expression, then glanced at the plate of steaming eggs on the table, and then back at him. "Perhaps this isn't the best place to be like that," she said. "If we were evacuating the house I didn't want to be left," he said. "I wasn't sure if we were still speaking," she said. He had no smart rejoinder, and knew that even a moment's hesitation in making one up would leave him at a disadvantage. He turned and went back to the bedroom. While dressing he assessed his mood and concluded he was still angry. He felt gummy but refused on principle to take a shower by himself, and hoped she would say something because he had a fine retort about missing one train and having to wait for the next. He had also formulated the rejoinder to her remark about not speaking, but he had no chance to use it, because as soon as he entered the kitchen again and sat down at the table she got up and went to the sink to rinse and stack her dishes. She brushed past him and a moment later he heard the bathroom door |