They don’t even take the key out of the lock. They don’t even make it off of the floor.
A year is a long time to wait.
And Allyson and Willem, they feel like they’ve been waiting a lot longer.
• • •
Only later, after they have pulled the key out of the lock and put back on their clothes only to take them off again and try things more slowly this time and are having a 3 a.m. snack in Willem’s bed, do things calm down enough for them to talk. They talk about things like birthdays and ice-cream flavors (March, August, chocolate for both) and scars (he fell on the deck of his family’s houseboat, the one his father built; he has much to tell her about Bram). They speak of Willem’s apprenticeship and Allyson’s college. They spend a fair amount of time discussing the geography and transportation options of the American Northeast.
“Four hours from New York to Boston on the bus,” Allyson says. “One hour to Philadelphia on the train.”
“I like trains,” Willem says as he nibbles her ear. “Busses, too.”
“And I could come to Brooklyn on weekends,” Allyson says shyly. Only not that shyly. Her hand is drifting down under the covers. Willem is glad she steered him away from the three pack. “And October is like nothing.”
“It’s practically tomorrow,” Willem murmurs.