Mat’s mom slipped on some ice and sprained her hip. She could manage with a walker, but stairs were impossible, so Mat moved home for a few weeks. Long phone calls to Laura every bedtime.

“Like old times,” Laura said.

Mat said, “I miss you so much.”

On the weekend Laura came for dinner. “He’s making my roast pork,” Mat’s mom told Laura.

Mat took Laura’s hand. “Come downstairs and help me find the applesauce.”

“Oh, yes, applesauce,” Mat’s mom said. Mat and Laura were already halfway to the basement.

“Wow, this is the hugest pantry,” Laura said, while Mat unbuttoned her shirt.

“It used to be my bedroom,” Mat told Laura between kisses. “My pesky little brothers snapped up my real bedroom the moment I went off to college.”

Laura studied the rows of shelves. Cans of beans, peas, carrots, beets. Tins of sardines. Pink salmon. Baskets of apples and potatoes. “Where was your bed?” Laura asked.

“Over there by the noodles. Night after night I’d dream of you.”

“Good dreams?”

“Mm. I’d wake up all ... excited.”

“Like now? Did you touch yourself? Show me.”

Mat hesitated.

“Would it help if I helped?”

Mat nodded.

Laura reached her hand in. “Is this how you did it?” Laura’s hand moved slow and silky.

“I’m going to make a mess,” Mat said.

Luckily the laundry was right there.

“Lonely looking underwear,” Mat said, staring into the washtub. “I’m just going to—” His hand moved inside Laura’s panties. “—balance the load.”

The pork roast turned out perfect. Naked under their jeans, all through dinner Mat and Laura grinned at each other like naughty teenagers.

Afterwards Mat said, “We’re going downstairs to check on the laundry.”

“Mm,” said Mat’s mother. “Maybe while you’re down there you could find some dessert.”