I got light-headed in the shower this morning. It felt like when I spent too much time in a sauna. My head ached from overwork and a continued bout of some common illness. I could still see the scrapings of her claws on my left bicep. They intersected the faded stretch marks. I could count to twelve by them. I felt nauseous for a moment and got out to press my forehead to the wall. I dripped for a while.

She was angry that I skipped out on last weekend. She became more irate when I told her I wouldn’t make it this weekend. None of it obvious, of course. Not over the phone. I’ll bet her eyes were enraged.

She wanted me to say I could stay over, but was unwilling to ask me directly. I became irritated as well.

“I’m busy as all hell,” I told her. “Now’s not a good time. We need to be in all weekend to get this done.” I wanted to mention I am also sick, but our time together is based on being me the stronger one. It felt unwise to show weakness at these early stages.

“Okay. When will this be done?”

“We hit our milestone Sunday night.”

“Okay.” She paused, probably fidgeted with something next to her. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. I thought of you this morning.”

“What did you think?”

I’m sick, you know.