When she’d let herself into the apartment, Catherine sat the grocery bag down on an end table that stood next to the door, pulled off her gloves and shoved them into her coat pocket. Of course Henry was asleep. The big oak-framed bed had been left between the coffee table and the TV and Henry lay on his side, breathing heavily, the blankets wrapped around him. He had helped bring in this bed and a few boxes. But that was it. The rest of the time, he had sat on the recliner, telling Catherine and the mover what to do––ordering, really. He had not liked the mover. He’d made that clear. He said he could have done the job better if he hadn’t strained his back lifting the bed. He said this to the mover, pointing a thin finger in the guy’s face. Then the mover left.

Catherine slid a banana box to the end of the coffee table and sat down, knees pushing into the side of the bed. She leaned forward and whispered, “Henry wake up.”

But Henry said nothing, moving his head on the pillow, working his lips. He smelled sour. He hadn’t shaved. There were crumbs and strands of hair on the sheets and Henry’s pants and socks lay twisted up on the floor.

Catherine placed a hand on Henry’s shoulder and nudged him. “Wake up Henry,” she said and then she looked around.

Henry had left the blinds open. Catherine went over to draw them. She pulled her coat together in front of her and folded her arms. Rain tapped against the glass. Cars hissed by on the wet pavement, lights glaring, mist rising from the tires. Maybe he had forgotten, she thought. Maybe he had listened when she’d said she didn’t like them to be open but even in the old house she had always washed the dishes, brought the trash out to the curb, while Henry lay on the sofa, watching things like college football. When she drew the blinds, Henry shifted under the blankets. “Just give me another thirty minutes Cat,” he said and the bed creaked when he turned over and faced the other way.

Catherine went back to the coffee table. She sat down. “You forgot to close the blinds,” she said.

Henry sighed. “What?” he said.

“You left the blinds open,” she said.

Henry didn’t say anything––didn’t even move.

“Just please don’t leave the blinds open anymore,” Catherine said.

Henry turned onto his back. “Hey,” he said. “Richard and Sara are coming over tomorrow.”

“I know,” Catherine said. “I got groceries.” She looked at the bag next to the door. There wasn’t much in it: crackers, a cheese ball, carrot and celery sticks and ranch dressing. She hadn’t known what else to get.

“They’re great. Don’t you think?” Henry said.

“Sure,” Catherine said and looked at the bed. The sheets were wrinkled. “You said you would help move this to the bedroom,” she said.

“My back still hurts.”

“You’re such a baby.”

“Maybe it’ll feel better tomorrow.”

Catherine stood up. “Your friends are coming over tomorrow,” she said. “There won’t be time tomorrow.”

“I don’t know about that,” Henry said.

“Can’t we just do it today?” Catherine said. “We could do it tonight.”

Henry said nothing and when Catherine reminded him that she had to work, that a lot of people came to the restaurant this time of year, he looked at the foot of bed. She wanted to say other things. She wanted to say that it was hard working extra hours and taking night classes at the same time. She wanted to say that she had not talked to her mother since she’d moved in with Henry, that she was not welcome in the house in which she’d grown up. But the telephone rang and Henry lifted himself up, elbows digging into the bed. “I bet it’s them,” he said. “I bet it’s Richard. I’ll get it.”

Henry threw off the blankets and ran to the kitchen and while he was on the phone, Catherine made the bed. She put the blankets on the coffee table, pulled the sheets tight across the mattress, fluffed the pillows and arranged them along the headboard. She considered vacuuming the sheets––there was hair all over. But instead she took the blankets and threw them over the mattress, letting them fall into place. She tucked in all the sides and made a fold at the top and swept her hands across to smooth everything out. A whicker chest stood a few feet from the foot of the bed and she wanted to move it into the narrow hall but Henry hung up the phone and she took the grocery bag to the kitchen.

Henry sat at the dining room table.

Catherine let the bag fall onto the counter next to a box that said PLATES on the side. “Who was it?” she said.

“It was Richard,” Henry said. “They’re going to Cayucos. Tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“They got invited. Richard’s mother owns a house on the beach.”

“Just like that? Just like that they’re going to Cayucos?”

Henry smiled. “Aren’t they lucky?” he said. “I told them to stop by on the way.”

Catherine did not say anything. She looked at her ring. It was only a quarter carat diamond. Henry had sold furniture for J.C. Penny. That was how they had met and when he’d sold her the bed, he asked her out on a date. Before she knew it, they were together. Catherine pulled off the ring. She looked at the band of light green skin around her finger. Then she put it back on, shifting it so that she couldn’t see the green.

On the stove sat a grimy pan, blackened along the base. She grabbed it and chucked it into the sink. It crashed against a soapy plate.

Henry stood up. “Hey,” he said. “What the hell?”

He was thin and his chest was bare.

“I can’t believe you,” Catherine said. “I can’t believe you told them they could come here now. Today I mean.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I want to move that bed.”

They were silent for a moment. Then Henry said, “I nearly broke my back carrying that thing.”

“But that was last week,” Catherine said.

“They don’t care. They’re my friends.”

“It’ll take a second. That’s all. It’ll only take a second.”

“I’m telling you they don’t care,” Henry said. “Trust me. Besides,” he said. “I think I really did strain something in my back carrying that thing.”

“You’re a baby,” Catherine said.

Henry looked at the clock above the stove. “Fine,” he said. “Let me get something to eat first and I got to get dressed. Then we’ll do your thing. They won’t be here for another hour.”

Henry came down the hall, buttoning up a clean white shirt. He had taken a shower, shaved, brushed his teeth. He had taken his sweet time. Catherine stood beside the coffee table and watched him go to the window and pull open the blinds. He stood there, hunched over, looking out. Cars went by steadily. “Ready?” Catherine said.

“I don’t know Cat. My back hurts pretty bad,” Henry said. “Couldn’t we just do it later? Tomorrow I mean?”

“It’ll only take a second,” Catherine said.

“Let’s do it later. Let’s do it tomorrow when you get home.”

“I want to do it right now.”

“Fine,” Henry said. “But this’ll just aggravate it.”

Catherine took off her coat and threw it at a stack of unpacked banana boxes that stood against the wall. It landed on top then slid off and fell to the floor. She went over to the headboard and waited for Henry. He braced himself across from her over the bed and together they tried to lift it. But Henry stopped. He stood up, placing a hand on the small of his back as if to push himself straight, as if he were in pain.

“Really?” Catherine said. “Really?”

“Couldn’t we just leave it?” Henry said.

“No.”

“But my back––”

“It’s been a week Henry. It’s been a god damn week.”

Henry clutched the small of his back. “Really Cat,” he said. “My back is killing me.”

Catherine said nothing. She folded her arms across her chest.

“Listen forget about this,” Henry said. “We’ll do it tomorrow. I promise.”

“You said that yesterday. You’ve been saying that all week.”

“They’ll be here soon.”

“I don’t care. I want this moved.”

“They don’t care,” Henry said. “Just relax. You need to relax.”

“I at least––” Catherine said but she didn’t finish. She shook her head. She wanted to lift the bed up as high as she could and throw it at Henry. “I really don’t want this here,” she said.

But Henry wasn’t listening. He was looking past her at the window. He smiled. “They’re here,” he said.

Catherine looked out the window. They were coming up the concrete path, red-faced, holding each other tight against the cold. Richard stopped, one hand holding the umbrella, the other pointing at the front door. He said something to Sara. He gave her the umbrella and ran back to their car with his coat collar turned up, shoulders hunched. He was a gentleman––even to Sara.

Their car was parked along the curb behind Catherine’s car. Across the street was a parking lot and then the grocery store. Gray swollen clouds hung in the sky.

Catherine turned back into the room. She clamped her teeth. The place was a mess: boxes along the walls, picture frames everywhere, leaning against the sofa, the recliner, stacked up on the floor. There was furniture that belonged in the bathroom, in the bedroom: a table for magazines, night stands, the bed. For a moment she considered how things would stand if she had never bought the bed from Henry. Then she went over and grabbed him by the arm. “We’ve got to move this,” she said. “We’ve got to move this bed.”

Henry took his arm away. He held it close to his chest. “Will you forget about that right now?” he said.

Catherine thought she heard a car alarm go off.

The doorbell rang several times and when Henry opened the door, Sara stood there smiling, holding her elbows. Henry drew her inside. “Where did Richard go?” he said.

“He nearly forgot the gift,” Sara said and smiled. She took off her knit cap. She ran her fingers through her hair. “Henry don’t stand there,” she said. “You’ll get sick.”

Henry said nothing. He stood in the doorway looking out at the street.

A police siren wailed in the distance.

Sara shrugged. “I hope you don’t mind that my hair is smelly,” she said to Catherine. “It’s cider vinegar. You should try it Catherine. Richard said it’s good for the scalp.”

The smell like a match burned in Catherine’s nostrils. “That’s okay,” she said and tried to smile.

Henry said, “Is it really?”

Catherine said, “That what she just said.”

Henry looked at her from the doorway.

When Richard came back holding a bottle of white wine, he slapped Henry on the back. Henry laughed, watching Catherine.

Richard offered the bottle to Catherine. “Pinot Grigio,” he said. “It’s for you.”

“Thank you,” Catherine said. She smiled.

“Show us your new home,” Sara said.

Richard placed his arm around Sara’s shoulder. He smiled at Catherine. She could tell he didn’t want his arm there. He had a big gold ring and he had big fingers. Catherine knew those fingers, how they felt combing through her hair, sliding along her back. But all that was over a year ago.

“I’ll show you the kitchen,” Henry said. “The kitchen is great. I think you’ll like it,” he said and then he led them toward the kitchen. “Don’t mind the bed,” he said.

Richard watched it before they stopped beside the dining room table.

Henry went into the kitchen and raised his hands as though he were selling something. “What do you think?” he said.

Richard said, “It’s small.”

Catherine said, “Henry likes it.”

Henry smiled. He patted the stove. “Well it’s the things I like,” he said. “I wish it was bigger but all the appliances are brand-new.”

Richard looked at Catherine. “That’s good,” he said. He looked as though he were trying not to laugh.

“So how was the move?” Sara said.

“Intense,” Henry said. “You never realize how many things you have until you move.”

“You must’ve been exhausted,” Sara said.

“It wasn’t too bad,” Henry said.

“He’s still exhausted,” Catherine said. “He pulled a muscle in his back.”

“Did you really?” Sara said.

“Not exactly,” Henry said.

“He did,” Catherine said. “He pulled a muscle in his back. He’s been complaining about it all week.”

“My gosh Henry. Sit down,” Sara said. “Why aren’t you sitting down?”

“I’m all right. I didn’t really pull anything. It’s just a little sore you know?” Henry said.

“Sit down,” Sara said and pulled Henry out of the kitchen and toward the dining room table. “You can still entertain us sitting down can’t you?”

“I’m okay really,” Henry said.

Sara pushed Henry into a chair.

“Really I’m all right,” Henry said.

“Stop trying to be a tough guy,” Sara said. “Just sit down and put your feet up.”

Sara pulled out another chair, lifted Henry’s feet and placed them on it.

Catherine laughed. “You’re like a mother,” she said.

Sara looked at Catherine.

Richard laughed.

“Be quiet,” Henry said.

Richard placed a hand over his mouth. He was trying not to laugh.

“She is though,” Catherine said and laughed.

“Why don’t you be quiet?” Henry said. Then he said, “Hey Dick let’s have some of that pinot whatever-you-call-it.”

“Grigio,” Richard said. “Can’t. I have to drive.” He looked serious.

“Come on. Be a man,” Henry said.

“I’ll have a little,” Sara said.

Richard looked at Catherine. “I guess,” he said. “I guess I’ll have a little.”

Henry got up and took some glasses from a box on the counter. He tried to open the bottle. He broke off the cork and he had to shove the end down into the bottle.

Catherine wanted to laugh.

Henry looked at her and then he filled all the glasses and handed them out.

When he offered one to Catherine, she said, “No thank you. I have to get up early tomorrow. I have to work.”

“Take it,” Henry said. “You need to relax.”

“That’s okay. I have to work,” Catherine said.

Henry turned to Richard. “She thinks she’s so responsible,” he said.

Catherine nodded. “I am,” she said. “I’m a lot more responsible than you.”

“Is that right?” Henry said.

Catherine said, “That’s right.”

“I would really like to know how you are more responsible than me,” Henry said. “Tell me how you are more responsible than me. I would really like to know.”

“Well for starters,” Catherine said. “I found the mover and I called U-Haul and I packed everything.” She paused. “You’ve done nothing,” she said.

“That’s not true,” Henry said. “I’ve done plenty.”

“What have you done?” Catherine said.

Henry said, “I’m paying for this place.” He paused and looked at the living room. Then he said, “If it wasn’t for me that massive bed wouldn’t be in this apartment at all. You wouldn’t be able to move it without me.”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Catherine said.

“You haven’t shown us the bedroom,” Sara said brightly. “Show us that.”

“She won’t get off my back about that bed,” Henry said to Richard as though he had not listened, as though he were deaf. “I mean she just won’t get off my back.”

Richard didn’t say anything.

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Catherine said.

Henry said, “She doesn’t care about me you understand? She doesn’t care about anything except hiding that bed from you guys.”

“Don’t talk about that,” Catherine said.

Henry said, “Hell I like it out there. I might just keep it out there. What would you say to that Catherine?”

Catherine did not say anything. They were all looking at her, watching her, and when she considered this, when she considered everything, her stomach turned. She went into the living room to the bed.

Henry had followed her. “What are you doing?” he said.

Catherine said nothing. She tore off the blankets and the sheets and threw them to the floor at the foot of the bed. She took the pillows and threw those as well. Then she lifted the mattress and flipped it off the bed frame so that it crashed against the TV.

“What do you think you’re doing,” Henry said.

Catherine did not say anything. She got on her knees and looked at the bed frame. She touched a screw in one of the planks that connected the headboard to the baseboard. She got up and went over to a stack of banana boxes that stood against the wall. She ripped the cover off one of the boxes, found Henry’s toolbox and opened it. There was hardly anything in the toolbox: a hammer, a box of nails, a tape measure and a screwdriver. When she took the screwdriver, Henry grabbed her arm. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he said and then he looked at her with his mouth tightly closed.

Richard and Sara stood beside the dining room table, watching.

Catherine pulled her arm away and then she pushed Henry and he fell back against the wall. For a moment she watched him.

Catherine went back to the bed. She unscrewed all the smaller planks that lay parallel to the headboard, that were supposed to hold the mattress. She unscrewed these, one by one. She let the screws fall and clink on the floor and then she threw the smaller planks behind her. Some landed on the coffee table. Some landed on the sofa. She unscrewed the headboard and when it fell, the two bigger planks that connected the headboard to the baseboard scratched the floor. She didn’t care. It was all coming apart and she didn’t care anymore. She unscrewed the two bigger planks from the baseboard. When these fell, they slapped the floor. The bed frame was all in pieces but she did not care anymore.

When Catherine looked up, Henry was standing in front of her. She felt his breath on her face. “You’re insane,” he said. Then he said, “Leave. I don’t care where you go but I want you to leave right now. I want you to leave,” he said.

Catherine looked at Richard.

Richard wasn’t smiling. He put his arm around Sara’s shoulder and pulled her close.

“Leave,” Henry said. “Right now.”

For a while Catherine looked at Henry.

Henry looked at Catherine as though she were capable of doing anything.

Catherine went over to get her coat and then she opened the front door and closed it behind her without looking at any of them. She would come back to get her things tomorrow, or else she would come back the next week when Henry would be less upset. He needed time to calm down. Either way, she had a lot of things here: clothes, books, furniture. She had things here that she needed, that she couldn’t do without, but she did not want to have anything to do with the bed. Henry could do whatever he wanted with the bed. Catherine started down the concrete path toward her car. The rain had stopped and her car shone in the sun.