Page 80 of Devotion

There’s nothing. Nothing. Except Gabriel and me, holding on to each other in the fury of a hurricane.

“At least my family got out,” I say at last.

“Yeah. They’re safe. Maybe you should?—”

I know what he’s about to suggest, so I don’t let him finish. “I’m not going to visit them and never come back. Even if it’s safer. I’m not going to leave you, Gabriel.”

“Okay.” His arms tighten briefly.

After several minutes, I say, “I’m sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry for?” He brushes a kiss against my hair.

“You’ve worked yourself half to death on this project. You’ve spent all this time and so much of your mind and experience and effort and… and soul to create it. You thought you could make the world better just like I did. And all of that is getting dumped into the trash too. All of it. Poured down the drain. You mightnot have fallen apart the way I did, but I know it’s hurt you just as much.”

He doesn’t answer immediately. His body shifts restlessly against mine. Then, “Yeah. It has.”

“I’m really sorry about that.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, as broken as I’ve ever heard him.

There’s nothing left to say.

19

Three days pass in a weird,aching blur.

We do normal things. Gabriel swims and works and goes to meetings. I read and draw and knit and talk to him. Twice, he lets me give him a massage, but he won’t accept any other kind of release. He doesn’t allow me to bring him to climax with my mouth, and we don’t have sex. I desperately want to take care of him, but I’m far too heavy and anxious and sad to focus on physical pleasure myself.

Maybe he feels the same.

We hold each other in bed at night and otherwise go through our days as best we can.

The public meetings are the worst. I’m forced to smile and listen agreeably so that no one suspects something is wrong. And poor Gabriel has it even worse. He has to participate. Pretend to care about the tedious policy discussions and debates, all of them meaningless when the heart of the state is so rotten. He does a good job. Puts on his normal dry, thoughtful, no-nonsense manner for the world. I can see the strain on him, but no one else seems to notice.

I hope not.

If anyone suspects he’s resistant to the will of the president, he’ll be in real danger.

Which means I will be too.

On the morning of the fourth day, my 215th day as Gabriel’s partner, he’s called into a last-minute morning meeting and has to rush through showering and dressing after his swim. His hair is still mostly wet as he combs it out and pulls it back at the nape of his neck. He left the bathroom door open as he dressed, so I can see him as he stands in front of the vanity mirror.

He stares at himself with a blank expression, but beneath it there’s a palpable heaviness. A bleak, oppressive weight.

It breaks my heart.

Without thinking through the instinct, I get up and go stand beside him. Rub his back in slow, tender circles.

He meets my eyes in the mirror.

“Who is this meeting with? Just the president?”

“No. It’s a small group.”

“And what’s the topic?”

“I wasn’t told, but I’m assuming it’s my plan. I was told to bring my revised version.”

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