The unexamined face . . . ?

One thing I did mention was that I had had a headache the day before and had tried one of the suppositories, both as a dry run and as an alternative to Prontalgine (my mainstay for such attacks, but I wasn’t sure it would be acceptable under present circumstances). "The pain killer doesn’t seem to work for me," I reported. But she brushed that off. After all, a headache was hardly the same as the kind of pain awaiting me (little did I know!).

When she was leaving, the paella arrived. It was basic stuff, not very good. I’d asked for a Coke but that request was ignored. The caffeine maybe? Or the French resistance to Yankee globalization? Nando had requested unfizzy mineral water and that’s what both of us got. Plus a fruit for dessert. I ate in spite of myself. I was hungry. Also, I figured, I wouldn’t be in condition to eat the next day.

After the paella and before we turned out the lights, I asked my husband, "Why are you doing this for me? Because you love me or because you are ashamed of the way I look?"

"Oh, Cipo. why do you ask me these academic questions? You know I hate questions that are too deep, that I have to think about."