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When an hour has passed and Alain has not returned, Meg fixes dinner -- chicken and salad. She leaves Alain's share of the chicken to stay warm in the cooling oven, his salad at his usual place at the table.
An hour after that, she moves both the chicken and the salad to the refrigerator, and puts a note at his place telling him where to find them if he wants dinner.
She's tired, but not remotely sleepy. Still, in the absence of anything else to do, Meg brushes her teeth, combs and braids her hair, and heads for the bedroom to change into her pajamas.
The bedroom door opens onto Milliways.
"Very funny," Meg mutters, closing the door without stepping through it.
She opens it again to find the bar still waiting for her. "This is the textbook definition of terrible timing, you know," Meg says, closing the door again.
The third time she opens the door and finds the bar waiting for her, Meg sighs and takes one very small step across the threshold. She never lets go of the doorknob, and she steps back into the apartment immediately. "Happy now?" she asks the door as she closes it.
It's still there the fourth time she opens the door. "Fine. Have it your way. But you can't make me go through," Meg says, and slams the door.
She curls up against the corner of the couch in the living room. She doesn't expect to fall asleep, but she must at some point. It's the only way Alain's letting himself back into the apartment just before midnight could wake her up.
"Je suis ici," she says, before he can turn on the light.
"Meg?" Alain crosses the still dark room and puts one hand on her shoulder. "You should have gone to bed."
"I fell asleep here," she says, bringing her hand up to cover his. His hand is cold. "Did you eat? There's chicken and -- "
"I ate."
"All right."
Alain is silent for almost a minute, his hand still on her shoulder, before he speaks again. "I don't like fighting with you."
"I don't like fighting with you, either," Med says. "Do you want to talk about things?"
"In the morning," Alain says.
"I have class and you have school," Meg says.
"So we'll miss them."
There's a second, and then Meg nods. Alain's hand tightens on her shoulder briefly. "I love you," he says. "I don't think this would be nearly so difficult if I didn't."
"Je sais. Et je t'aime, aussi."
"Are you coming to bed?" Alain asks.
Meg nods again. "Yes."
So long as he opens the door.
An hour after that, she moves both the chicken and the salad to the refrigerator, and puts a note at his place telling him where to find them if he wants dinner.
She's tired, but not remotely sleepy. Still, in the absence of anything else to do, Meg brushes her teeth, combs and braids her hair, and heads for the bedroom to change into her pajamas.
The bedroom door opens onto Milliways.
"Very funny," Meg mutters, closing the door without stepping through it.
She opens it again to find the bar still waiting for her. "This is the textbook definition of terrible timing, you know," Meg says, closing the door again.
The third time she opens the door and finds the bar waiting for her, Meg sighs and takes one very small step across the threshold. She never lets go of the doorknob, and she steps back into the apartment immediately. "Happy now?" she asks the door as she closes it.
It's still there the fourth time she opens the door. "Fine. Have it your way. But you can't make me go through," Meg says, and slams the door.
She curls up against the corner of the couch in the living room. She doesn't expect to fall asleep, but she must at some point. It's the only way Alain's letting himself back into the apartment just before midnight could wake her up.
"Je suis ici," she says, before he can turn on the light.
"Meg?" Alain crosses the still dark room and puts one hand on her shoulder. "You should have gone to bed."
"I fell asleep here," she says, bringing her hand up to cover his. His hand is cold. "Did you eat? There's chicken and -- "
"I ate."
"All right."
Alain is silent for almost a minute, his hand still on her shoulder, before he speaks again. "I don't like fighting with you."
"I don't like fighting with you, either," Med says. "Do you want to talk about things?"
"In the morning," Alain says.
"I have class and you have school," Meg says.
"So we'll miss them."
There's a second, and then Meg nods. Alain's hand tightens on her shoulder briefly. "I love you," he says. "I don't think this would be nearly so difficult if I didn't."
"Je sais. Et je t'aime, aussi."
"Are you coming to bed?" Alain asks.
Meg nods again. "Yes."
So long as he opens the door.