Irma set the table for two and covered her father's armchair with a clean blanket, as though that could hide how the whole apartment revolved around his habits. After an injury he had difficulty walking and temporarily lived with her. Irma was forty-five, worked in a library, and had a new number in her phone that made her smile. His name was Damjan, and so far they had shared only three brief coffees.
She postponed dinner twice. The third time she told the truth: she could not leave her father alone all evening, and her brother would arrive late. Damjan asked whether she would feel comfortable having him over. She agreed, then spent the whole day trying to make the apartment conceal her exhaustion. When he rang, the sauce was ready, a candle burned, and she was already worn out.
Her father came out to greet the visitor. He forgot he had asked for tea, then became annoyed that there was none. Irma put down the plates and began explaining. Damjan remained seated without adding advice. After her father left, Irma apologized so long the sauce cooled. Damjan asked whether she wanted to warm it or would rather simply eat. She said she most wanted to stop repairing the evening.
They sat with cold plates. Irma admitted fearing that being with her would always include a schedule of other people's needs. Damjan did not promise nothing would be difficult. He had children, work, and days without patience himself. He said he would like to know her without her selling him an easier version of life beforehand. He did not know whether they would work. He knew he liked her speaking in her normal voice without a hostess's smile.
Her brother arrived later than promised. For the first time Irma asked him to confirm times he could actually manage. She did not do it in front of Damjan as a display of decisiveness. They spoke quietly in the hallway, then she went out for a short walk. Damjan waited beside the lift, not already dressed for somebody else's life but ready for his half hour with her.
They walked to a kiosk and bought ice cream despite the cold. Their kiss was awkward because both held cones. Irma laughed, for the first time without exhaustion in her voice. Later meetings were not always easy. Sometimes a call interrupted; sometimes Damjan changed plans. But she no longer hid her father's armchair. Before Damjan came she merely removed newspapers from the seat where she wanted him to sit.