“We don't need charity, Steve,” she said, looking insulted. “If you want what's on the menu, come. If you want something fancier, go to a restaurant.” She had a lot of pride and a lot of heart, and more balls than most men he knew, and he liked that about her. She wasn't embarrassed about being poor, and she didn't want handouts from anyone.

“I didn't mean to insult your cooking. I love macaroni and cheese,” he said with a look of admiration for her. “What time can I come by?”

“Come whenever you get off work. You can take a shower at my place, if you want, or you can just sit around looking a mess if that feels better. It's strictly come as you are.” He also loved that about her. She didn't put on airs, or expect them from him. She was an honest, straightforward person.

“I'll see you around seven. Can I bring some beer, or will you kick my ass over that too? I just don't happen to love orange juice,” which was all she had had the last time.

“Okay, you can bring beer. But no wine or champagne.” She knew how wealthy he was, because of his wife, and she didn't want to share the wealth with him. In fact, she was uptight about it.

“Do you mind if I come in my limo?”

“Whatever turns you on. Come in your jet plane, if you want.” She was smiling at him, and he knew she had forgiven him for offering to bring steaks. She was a porcupine sometimes, but her inside was pure marsh-mallow.

“Can I land my helicopter on the roof?”

“Oh go fuck yourself, and go back to work,” she growled at him, and went home to Felicia.

And that night, he showed up at her apartment on the West Side at six thirty. The resident had come early for a change, and Steve had used the opportunity to leave while he could, before any new patients came in and he'd wind up staying.

When Anna opened the door for him, she was wearing jeans and a white angora sweater. She looked pretty and soft, and the body that disappeared in scrubs was very much in evidence in the angora. Her jeans looked like they were wallpapered to her, and the sweater was molded to her breasts in a way that was very distracting. Her hair was down, and she was wearing a pair of comfortable old slippers. And Felicia was hopping around the room in a pair of clean pink flannel pajamas. And for once the cockroaches had disappeared. The landlord had “exterminated” them a few days before, which Anna claimed usually lasted about ten minutes.

But in spite of the simple fare, the dinner she made for him was delicious. The macaroni and cheese was good, the hot dogs were huge, and she had made corn-bread. He had brought two six-packs of beer, so he could leave one for her, and a chocolate cake that had looked good to him at the deli.

“You don't have to eat it,” he teased, “if you feel like I'm buying you.”

“I will!” Felicia chimed in.

“I'll help you,” Steve said, helping her to a big piece, as Anna grinned at him. He was always nice to her daughter, and she was sorry for him that he didn't have his own children. She wondered about Meredith sometimes, what kind of woman she really was. She had the feeling at times that Steve had a lot of illusions about her.

Steve gave Anna a piece of the chocolate cake, too, and they all agreed it was delicious.

At eight o'clock Anna put Felicia to bed, and Steve volunteered to read her a story, while Anna did the dishes. And by the time she was through, Felicia was sound asleep, and Steve had come back to the tiny kitchen.

“What did you read her?” Anna asked with curiosity. Felicia had a number of favorites.

“One of my medical textbooks. I figured you'd want me to influence her early.”

“Very funny,” she said, as she dried her hands on a clean towel. Everything in the apartment was threadbare, but spotless. She was immaculate, and had managed to turn the place into a cozy home for them, which had been a real challenge. The paint was peeling off the walls, and the rooms were small, and they looked out on another ugly building. It seemed light-years away from his apartment, but Anna had never seen it.

He handed her another beer, and they sat down on the couch, talking and drinking. They talked about the hospital, as they always did, and then they talked about Puerto Rico, and she admitted that she missed it.

“I miss my family, my friends. I miss a lot of things.” And she talked about her dreams then. She still wanted to go to a Third World country one day, and help people who were in greater need than the kids in the gangs they saw constantly in the trauma unit. “Maybe someday,” she said, as she set the bottle of beer down on her coffee table.

“All I want to do is to get to California one of these days,” he said, “that's about as Third World as it gets for me. You're a lot braver than I am.”

“I'mjust not as spoiled,” she teased him. She always insisted that she didn't care about material things, but like everyone else, she did, to some extent, just not as much as some of the people they knew, or even himself, or Merrie. Sometimes she tried to make him feel guilty, but he didn't.

“You're so damn politically correct, you make me sick sometimes,” he said, with a grin. He felt relaxed with her, and very happy. The sting of the disastrous weekend in California had begun to dim for him. And he was beginning to think that maybe it hadn't been quite as awful as he first thought it. But for once, he didn't discuss Meredith with her. They just talked about themselves. She talked about Yale, and about her dreams for Felicia.

“I want her to be a lawyer. They make more money than we do.”

“My garbage man makes more money than we do. And by the way, I thought you disapproved of making too much money.”

“Not for my daughter,” she smiled with good humor. She was a good mother, and a good person, and Steve liked her. Besides, she was beautiful and sexy and easy to be with.

“So how come you don't have a boyfriend?” he asked her after a while, and she smiled at him. They had a way of putting each other on the spot and asking tough questions. But they both gave each other honest answers.

“I don't have time. I work too hard. Besides, I haven't met anyone I cared about in years. All the guys I meet are gay, assholes, or married.”

“That sounds appealing,” he said, relaxing on her couch. “What's wrong with gay guys?” he teased her.

“I hate sharing my clothes with the guys I go out with. They usually look better in them than I do.”

“That wouldn't be easy.” He paid her a backhanded compliment and she smiled. She enjoyed being with him. “Well, that takes care of the gay guys. And I guess assholes are a little tough, but interesting sometimes. They have a certain charm, you'll have to admit. What about married?”

“I don't like the odds,” she said simply. “I don't play games I can't win anymore. I learned that lesson early.” The odds had been stacked against her with Felicia's father. His family had won on that one.

“That's sensible,” Steve said matter-of-factly. “I've never fooled around myself actually. It never seemed fair to Merrie. Besides, I've never found anyone I like better.”

“Even now that she's not here?” Anna's eyes bored into his with her pointed questions. And he tried not to look at her breasts in her sweater. “You're a pretty straight guy if you can be faithful to a woman you see once or twice a month, sometimes less. That's impressive.”

“Just stupid, I guess.” He was a nice guy, and she knew it.

“What if you knew she weren't being faithful to you, Steve?”

“That couldn't happen. I know her. All she thinks about is her work anyway. She lives, sleeps, eats, breathes it.”

“That's not too sexy,” Anna said bluntly.

“Not lately.” He was honest with her. And there was something sad in his eyes as he said it. He didn't think Meredith was cheating on him, but he did think they were losing ground somehow, losing touch, and worse yet, losing each other. He had felt it clearly the previous weekend in California.

“You love her a lot, don't you?” He nodded, but there was more there, and feeling her probing eyes on him, he dug deeper.

“I love her. But I have to admit something has changed since she left. Sometimes it feels like we're not married anymore, and we're just dating … or just friends … or something. Living this far apart, when we see each other now, it's like I can't reach her. It's a lousy feeling.”

“It must be.” Anna had her own theories about it, but she didn't want to hurt him, so she didn't share them with him. But she knew women better than he did. She had also begun to think that he might never move to California. It just wasn't happening, and his wife didn't seem too anxious for him to be there. But she didn't say that to him either. Besides, he loved the trauma unit, and she couldn't see him leaving. “It's funny how people drift apart. I was in love with a guy once, and he moved away. I obsessed about him for a year. He was all I could think of. And when I saw him again, he was like a different person. I had this fantasy of him that had nothing to do with reality. He was actually kind of an asshole,” she admitted and he smiled at her.

“At least he wasn't gay or married. There must be some other guys out there, Anna, single ones. Maybe you're just not trying.”

“They're not out there, believe me. And it's too much trouble to find them.”

“That's the real problem. You're lazy.” She was anything but at the hospital. But he suspected she was too scared to get involved with anyone. She had old wounds and old scars to protect. She was hiding.

They sat and talked for a long time, and at ten o'clock she yawned, and he looked at his watch. “I should go,” he said, but he hated going back to his empty apartment, and she was nice to talk to.