"Marlin." Peter poured another glass. "When you get over there, anything comes up, you call. Doesn't matter what time. My phone's always on."
"Sure."
Kirsten sat across from me, busy cooking things in the pot the whole time.
She started with the food, dipping it in and out with that quick bobbing motion to get it just right.
When it was done, she didn't put it in her own bowl. She picked it up with her chopsticks and set it in Peter's.
The gesture was effortless, so natural she didn't even realize she'd done it.
Peter didn't notice either. He just picked it up and ate.
Watching them, I suddenly remembered the way she used to serve me food in our past life.
Every time, she would ask me first what I wanted, then place it in my bowl. There was always a careful, polite deliberateness to it.
Nothing like this. No words.
Just reaching over and placing it there.
"Marlin, when you get there," Kirsten said suddenly, "will someone be picking you up at the airport?"
"Yeah. Housing's already arranged too."
She nodded and didn't ask anything else.
The pot came to a rolling boil, steam rising and blurring her face.
Through that veil of white, I seemed to see so many things from the life before.
Her getting up in the middle of the night to feed the baby. Her bustling around the kitchen preparing the whole family's New Year's dinner. Her dozing in a patch of sunlight on the balcony, her hair turning white strand by strand.
She would never go through any of that in this life.
Peter had always been better at loving someone than I was.
That meal lasted close to three hours.
When it was over, Peter went to pay the bill. Kirsten stood waiting by the entrance.
I walked out behind her. She heard my footsteps and turned around.
The two of us stood under the light outside the restaurant, neither saying a word.
Traffic noise filled the street. Someone waited at the curb for a cab. A vendor pushed a cart of roasted sweet potatoes past us.
"Marlin."
"Are you..." She hesitated, as if weighing every word. "Are you really just leaving for work?"
I smiled and turned it back on her. "What else would it be?"
She looked at me. Her lips moved a few times, but in the end, nothing came out.
The day I left the country, the sky was clear.
Peter came to see me off. Kirsten didn't.
He said she wasn't feeling well and told me not to take it personally.
I said it was fine.