At the doorstep, Luke gave Eden a kiss on the cheek and opened the door. In the center of the nearly empty room hung a banner made of taped together sheets of paper, one letter per sheet of paper, “WELcomE HomE EDEN.” Behind the banner a wall of jalousie windows faced the water. A wine bottle stuffed with irises sat on a small round table underneath the banner.

“Come into the kitchen, my pretty, and I’ll show you some magic.” Luke pulled Eden by the hand across the terrazzo floor and onto the faded green linoleum that signaled the beginning of the kitchen.

“What’s that?” said Luke, pointing towards the sink.

“What?”

“Over there.” Eden took a step closer to look. A dried red pepper colored proboscis caught her eye.

“Lobster.”

“You didn’t look scared. I thought you’d scream.”

“It did scare me. You shouldn’t do that.”

Luke beamed. “I really want you to know that I appreciate you going to rehab for me.”

Eden’s posture changed, for the first time all night she looked like she was actually standing up rather than sitting cross-legged on her bed stooped over her laptop computer. She looked him straight in the eye.

“I did not go to rehab for you. You probably think I dyed my hair for you too. My mother did it before I even went in.”

Luke raised an eyebrow at her, “Did you grow that attitude for me too? Sheesh, you’d think you could be nice for once.”

“I am being nice, considering you just accused me of going to rehab for you.”

“So what?”

“You think you’re so much smarter than me. I didn’t even want to go to rehab at all you dumbass. I was trying to get myself committed. My medication isn’t working. You think you know everything.”

Luke started filling a large pan with water and getting things out of the refrigerator. He’d just bought the house, a small bungalow on the Deerfield side of the Hillsboro Canal. Property on the Deerfield side of the water was much less expensive than on the Boca Raton side, and accordingly Luke had a better view than those with nicer homes on the other side. In the backyard across the water colored spotlights showcased white bougainvillea trellises and a white gazebo and tall palm trees twinkled with little white Italian restaurant lights. Eden went out and sat on the seawall with her feet dangling over the water. It was nearly dark, but a faint blue glow remained, reflecting off the surface of the water. The air was unusually crisp and dry for October and the birds celebrated with a jangled chorus. Reflections of yellow dock lights ballet danced on the water. Across the water a puppy barked, “You’re gay whore. Gay gay gay gay gay.” Eden carefully rolled her spent cigarette between her fingers so that the cherry rolled out into the water, and then she put the filter in her pocket and went inside to where Luke was slicing lemons and listening to Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.

“Do you think I’m gay?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“But I really want to know.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Would you set the table? The water’s almost boiling. I have to throw them in.”

“I’m going to lie down in your room a second, I’m tired.” Eden went into Luke’s room. He had a plain waterbed in a dark wooden frame on the floor, and it was without sheets and pillows. Eden lied down on her back, shut her eyes, and concentrated on the coolness of the bed on her shoulders. In a minute she was asleep.

“Edie.” Luke kissed Eden’s lips. “Get up Edie. Dinner’s on.” Eden opened up her eyes and looked at him without recognition, and closed her eyes again. “Eden. Wake up.”

“Lie down with me.”

“It’s time to eat lobster.’

“Are they dead now?”

“Come on. I peeled them.”

“Really?”

“Come on.”

“Ok. ” She stood up. “Right after I smoke a cigarette.”

“No more smoking for you. Would you light those candles instead?” Eden lit the candles, three powder scented blue votives on a white stoneware saucer, and sat down at the table.

“Do you have any wine?”

“I thought you quit drinking.”

“Right. I’m not an alcoholic though.”

“Right-o. I have apple vinegar and basil vinegar and that Italian stuff for the salad. I didn’t know which one you like.”

“Balsamic?”

“Right-o.” Suddenly Beethoven was overshadowed by a much louder live rendition of “Caffeine” by LOAD and even more abruptly, Beethoven took over again. A minute later the front door opened and Eden’s friend Joe walked in with Luke’s brother Paul.

“Eden, how are you? Are you ok?” asked Joe, “We were worried about you.” Joe stood six feet seven and weighed almost three hundred pounds but the hug he gave Eden was gentle, as if she were a small child.

“I’m ok. I want to go home. Will you take me home? Luke can’t because it’s his party. But I have to go. I’m too tired. I can’t handle being around a lot of people. I shouldn’t have come. I fell asleep before I could email Luke back that I couldn’t go out.”

“It’s your party. You should stay,” said Joe. “I never got around to inviting much of anyone anyway. There won’t be a lot of people.”

“I need to go home. I need my medication.”

“Lovely. Fine, just fine,” said Luke. He pressed his lips together so that they were white in the middle.

“I’m sorry I have to go. I don’t feel well. I’m sick. You don’t have to believe I’m sick. Go ahead and think you know more about me than I do.”

“Fine, I said. I hope you feel much better,” Luke paused. “At least eat your lobster?”

“Paul can have it. It’s so good. Thank you so much. You’ve been very nice. I love you.” Eden walked out the front door and trudged through the smooth brown stones to Joe’s truck and got in quickly, facing forward.

Joe followed her, his weight causing a loud crunching sound as he walked through the stones. “You must have been waiting for me.” Joe smiled and fidgeted with his tongue barbell. The shiny silver balls clicked against his teeth. Eden turned to watch the post sliding through his tongue. “I barely said hello. So how are you Eden? What happened?” He headed north on Dixie Highway.

“I wanted to go to the psychiatric ward to find a decent doctor. My doctor is an idiot.”

“He gives you lots of good pills.”

“Cause he’s stupid. The ones at the hospital hardly talked to me. They put me in the rehab unit. They made me think I was an alcoholic. They want me to be an alcoholic.”

“I don’t think that’s what they want, Eden.”

“That’s because you weren’t there. The whole thing is insidious. They want me to believe in God. What’s crazier than thinking real life comes after physical death? It is irrational and dangerous, leading to all types of dissociative and cognitive disorders. How am I supposed to trust people with no common sense? Psychology is a poison, the kind that will be around as long as spent plutonium, the kind that wanted me to be an alcoholic.”

“Why would they do that? It’s their job to cure you.”

“It’s their job to get my money.” Eden closed her eyes and waited for home. When they got to the house she walked in the way she’d walked out – no goodbye for Joe and no hello for the dogs – and got back under the gold satin comforter where she slept deeply for six hours.