We've been pre-celebrating a little. Thai food and an old film noir. But mostly, tonight, my brain has been wound up tight with where am I going to stumble over my words while reading Tuesday night and what question is someone going to ask that I won't know the answer to and what very good friend am I going to blank on a name for as they hand me their book to sign.
We walk into the kitchen carrying our empty plates.
"Tell me again," I say, "what you said before?"
"What before?" Stephen asks.
"To make me feel better."
I've forgotten the words he used. By Tuesday night, I will have lost all the words that exist in my brain.
He cracks a smile. "There's nothing you can do to make it bad."
Like a little magic incantation.
"There's nothing I can do to make it bad," I say. "OK."
