Chapter 11
Eleven
CULLEN
I smirk as Nardi slams the door in my face. She’s surprisingly strong for a woman with only one usable arm.
“Nardi,” I knock on the door. “Nardi, my phone.”
The door wrenches open and Nardi chucks the cell phone at my head like a professional ax thrower. I barely manage to snatch it out of the air before it hits the wall.
“Thanks,” I say, lifting the phone in salute.
The door slams shut again.
I’m left with silence and a blazing hot need for Nardi that will, sadly, have to be postponed until she’s no longer in the ‘throwing things at my head’ mood.
Turning away, I force one foot in front of the other.
I’ve always felt a sense of loss when I leave Nardi’s apartment, but that feeling is more amplified after our conversation.
Was it a conversation?
She didn’t say much.
Perhaps I came on too strong. I do have a tendency of being blunt, especially now that time feels so finite and fleeting. Exchanging pleasantries, dancing around the point, pretending I feel something I don’t, it’s meaningless.
Life is about taking risks where it counts.
I did so with the company.
And now I’ll do so with Nardi.
I won’t have to twist her arm too hard either. I saw the way her eyes glazed with desire on the counter. I saw her bite her bottom lip when I promised to please her. I felt her exhale against my lips when I leaned in just short of kissing her.
Had she not been loopy on pain medication and bandaged from her elbow to her wrist, I would have taken her mouth the way everything inside me longed to do.
It was a test of restraint to hold back, so I’m glad she kicked me out. One of us needs to be clear-headed, and that person isn’t going to be me.
My stomach growls, mourning the loss of an opportunity to experience Nardi’s cooking. No matter. Soon, I’ll have a taste of Nardi herself. It’ll more than satisfy.
I walk down the hallway and face the stairway of doom. Pushing up my sleeves, I get ready to make the long, tiring trek when I hear Josiah’s voice.
“Cullen!” He runs toward me, holding something in his hands. “Cullen!”
“Josiah? What are you doing out here?” My eyes widen and I panic. “Did Nardi kick you out because of me?”
“No.” Josiah snorts. “She sent this.” He hands me a covered plate. I recognize the savory smells wafting from the container. This is the meal I’d warmed up before Nardi kicked me out. “She said to tell you her debt is paid and she doesn’t owe you anything.”
The plate is heavy, but this isn’t what I want from her. “Did she say anything else?”
“Um…” The little boy’s eyes track to the ceiling.
“Go ahead.”
“She said you can ‘go to hell’.” Josiah scratches behind his ear, his gaze still fastened on the ceiling.
I chuckle. “What time is school tomorrow?”
“Eight.”
“Does Nardi normally drop you off or do you take the bus?”
“Nardi takes me before she goes to work.”
I tap a note in my phone. “Nardi will try to drive you tomorrow. Go ahead and let her.”
“But the doctor said she shouldn’t drive,” Josiah reminds me.
“I know.”
“You’re going to take us, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
Josiah’s expression turns contemplative.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“‘Go to hell’ isn’t all that Nardi said.” He stammers. “She also used some other words that I’m not allowed to say.”
This time, I manage to contain my laughter, but it’s only by pulling my lips into my mouth and breathing deeply.
“Josiah.”
He looks at me.
“I’m going to handle Nardi. Just be ready for school on time, okay?”
The little boy nods and runs back to the apartment. I watch to make sure he gets in safely before taking the stairs.
On my way down, I call Sara.
“Yes, boss,” she says brightly, despite the late hour.
“I need to install an elevator in the apartment.”
“An elevator? Why? Our offices are on the first floor.”
“Just do it,” I say impatiently. “I want to use the contractor who built our offices. Find out his price and double it.”
“On it, sir.”
I hang up with Sara and order a cab. Once I get home, I wash my hands, change out of my outside clothes and settle around the table. The food Nardi gave me shines like a brilliant light in the darkness.
With reverent movements, I transfer the meal from the paper plate into my fine china and then I grab a can of kombucha from the fridge.
Before I dig in, I take note of the fragrances, catching notes of both the sweet and spicy. It definitely looks good.
I put a spoonful in my mouth.
One bite is enough to make me moan.
Two bites and I’m sprawled out on the back of my chair in an out of body experience.
“What is this?” I murmur, pushing at the rice and beans with my fork. “Did she put drugs in this?” I tear apart the chicken, marveling at the crispy texture and tender insides. The creamy potato salad is the stuff of dreams.
I’ve never had a meal that knocked my socks off so thoroughly. With every forkful, my greed increases and I want more and more.
The hell is in this?
I’m lucky Big T is the only one who wants to fight for Nardi. It’s a surprise every available man who’s gotten to enjoy her cooking skills isn’t lining up to duel to the death for her hand.
In a blink, the food is gone.
Without hesitation, I lift my plate and lick every drop. It’s my first time and I don’t regret a single swipe of my tongue.
After, I get up to wash the plate and do some more work in my computer room. However, the food drops heavy and I feel my eyelids pull lower and lower. The code starts mushing together on the screen and I give up for the night.
For the first time in ages, I go to bed and immediately fall asleep.
The shriek of my alarm wakes me from a warm dream where Nardi is sleeping in my lap while I work on my computer.
Dang it. I wanted to stay in that dream longer.
I get up without the usual grogginess from the sleeping pills. Refreshed, I get ready for the day, reaching for one of my go-to T-shirts and jeans. I change out of my black beanie to a light grey model and head to the kitchen.
After cooking up some French toast, fried eggs, and bacon, I set it all in glass lunch containers, pour out orange juice into miniature glass bottles and head out to the office.
The driver lets me out in front of the office at approximately seven a.m. I have some time before Nardi tries to drop Josiah off to school, so I settle into my office to do some paperwork.
Programming is what I prefer to do but, since I insisted on retaining management rights of Cullen Tech—in order to have a bigger say in our direction—that also means I have to be a CEO rather than a programmer for half of my day.
Sara normally checks my emails but, since I have the time, I go in and take a look. A new email came into my inbox around three a.m. this morning.
The subject reads ‘CEASE AND DISIST’.
I open the email and read out loud, “To Mr. Ronan Cullen, You have two weeks to shut down your project for infringing on…” I read the rest of the letter in my head as my eyes widen. “What the hell is this?”
Immediately, I reach for my phone and call Sara.
“Morning, Cullen,” she sings happily, “I’ve got the research on the elevators all ready. The good news is it’s possible, but the bad news is, it’s extremely costly?—”
“Sara, I have a cease and desist letter in my inbox from the company that stole our programming. Is this the first time we’ve gotten such an email?”
“What? Let me check.” I hear a rustling sound and then Sara comes back on the line, her voice breathless. “Oh my goodness. I have no idea what that’s about, but I’ll send it straight to our lawyers.”
“Let Asad and Dr. Young know too, but don’t send it to Sullivan yet. Let’s see if we can deal with it first before roping him into our mess.”
“Why would they sue us ? Especially when we have all the evidence on our side?”
I press my finger and thumb over the bridge of my nose, massaging lightly. “That’s exactly what they want. Evidence.”
“What do you mean?”
“If they take us to court, we’ll need to provide our mainframe for the investigation.”
Sara gasps. “They’ll see our programming infrastructure. Our codes. Everything.”
“It’s a smart play. Especially since the technology is still so new and constantly changing. Legislation can’t keep up. There’s not much protection for creators.”
“A company that big won’t even have to win the case,” Sara whispers. “They just need to peek into our files in order to build our simulation faster and get it out to the government and other businesses before us.”
I really don’t need this right now. Shaking my head, I growl. “We can’t let this go to court.”
“Of course. I’ll get on top of this.”
I hang up on Sara, sensing that a headache the size of a hurricane is on the horizon. One of my monitors is a feed of the parking lot and I can see Nardi and Josiah heading to the car. Josiah is looking over his shoulder.
He must be waiting for me to show.
The last thing I should do is take off from work and follow them in the middle of another crisis, but I remember my promise to Josiah. Plus, right now, Nardi should be recovering, not driving.
I push away from my desk, grab the bag with all the food I made for her and Josiah and stride into the sunshine.
“You really shouldn’t drive,” Josiah is telling his older sister as I draw near.
“I’m fine. I can drive with one hand,” Nardi says.
“That’s not a good idea,” I tell her.
Nardi spins, her eyes narrowed.
Josiah grins in relief.
I smile at him. “Morning, Josiah.”
“What are you doing here?” Nardi demands.
I face her and hold out a hand.
“No.” She pulls the keys to her chest. “I’m not letting you drive.”
My eyes trace down to the bandages peeking out from her wrist. Those weren’t showing yesterday. She must have messed with the wrist brace between last night and this morning.
I keep my hand steady.
She steps back, shaking her head like a baby who doesn’t want to share her toy. “Go away.”
“What happens if you and Josiah get into an accident because you only had one hand available?”
Nardi tilts her head to the side. I notice her hair is wet and the limp strands tucked behind her ears are still dripping with water.
“Come on, Nardi,” Josiah gives her a little push, “I’ll be late for school if we don’t leave now.”
Nardi sighs hard enough the clouds shift a little to the left. “Fine, but only because my wrist still hurts. I won’t need your help tomorrow.”
Rather than comment, I open the passenger door for her. Nardi climbs in with a begrudging frown. Glad to have gotten over that hurdle, I hand Josiah the bag with the breakfast I made.
On my way around the vehicle, my phone rings. It’s Asad.
I press ignore and climb inside.
The vehicle fills with the scent of breakfast. Josiah is already chowing down.
“Did you make this?” Josiah asks with his mouth full.
“I did.” I smile at him in the rearview mirror and return my attention to the road. “What are you doing after school today?”
“I have homework and then I have to help Nardi cut up vegetables for a party on Sunday.”
My eyes whip over to Nardi. “You still plan on catering for Darrel and Sunny Hastings?”
“You and your big mouth.” Nardi peers over her shoulder to give her brother the stink eye.
Josiah sinks into his seat.
“Nardi, you know your wrist won’t be better by the weekend. The doctor said you should take two weeks off.”
“I know what the doctor said. Why are you asking my brother what he’s doing later?”
Arguing with Nardi won’t change her mind, so I answer her question. “We’re working on a part of the simulation that requires a nuclear physicist. Dr. Malu Ko is flying over to give us a hand with our programming.”
“Really?” If Josiah wasn’t seat belted in, his head would have hit the ceiling in excitement.
“I wanted to invite Josiah to join us after school.” I glance at Nardi. “If it’s alright with you.”
“Nardi, please, please, please, please. I’ll never get this close to Dr. Malu Ko again if I miss this chance.”
Actually, I plan on introducing Josiah to Dr. Malu Ko. Networking isn’t my strong suit, but Dr. Ko is well connected in the science and technology field. He can be a big help to Josiah in the future.
Nardi’s facial muscles tense and I can tell she wants to say no with everything in her, but when she twists around to look at her brother, she says, “Fine. But make sure you do your homework first. I don’t want you distracted from school because of Mr. Po.”
“It’s Ko.”
“I don’t care. Homework comes first.”
“Yeah,” Josiah says, flopping back and kicking his legs in excitement.
I grin at the sight of his happiness and then I look over at Nardi. She’s smiling too but, when she sees she’s got my attention, that smile putters out into a frown.
My phone vibrates in my pocket again. It’s probably Sara.
“Is Mr. Ko going to work on the plane’s energy source?” Josiah asks, distracting me. “Does this mean you’ve found a way to connect to the controller and you’re starting to build the plane itself now?”
We discuss the PLP project while Nardi zones out on her phone.
After I drop Josiah off at school, Nardi continues to look at her phone, completely ignoring me.
I notice she hasn’t touched my food either. “Aren’t you hungry?” I ask, nodding to the bag.
“No.”
Her stomach growls.
I smirk. “I made the food myself. I didn’t poison it. If you’d like, I can take a bite. You can decide if you want to eat it after you see that it doesn’t kill me.”
“I’m not talking to you.” She shifts away.
“Then I guess you won’t want to hear what I thought about your rice and beans.”
She swivels back around so fast the seatbelt groans.
I arch a brow. “I thought you didn’t want to talk to me?”
“I’m not. I’m… taking a customer survey.”
I smile because she’s a freaking delight. “The meal was amazing. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I was hoping to pay you off with it.”
“Then you made a tactical mistake.” I lick my lips. “One taste wasn’t nearly enough.”
She swallows audibly. Her hand darts up to the base of her throat and I desperately wish I could replace her hand with my own.
“If you’re going to talk like that then… just let me out now.”
“I was talking about your food.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“Don’t accuse me because you have a dirty mind, Nardi.”
Her mouth twists and untwists as she struggles to come up with something to say. “You’re… impossible. I’m not talking to you.”
“You tried that already, princess. And yet, here we are. Talking.”
She tilts her head back. “Remember when we just met and you barely said one word to me? Where did that guy go? Why are you so chatty now?”
“When we just met, I asked you to marry me. I don’t know why you’re insinuating that I’m any different with you now than before. I’d say I’ve been pretty consistent.”
She twists back to the passenger window.
“Have you thought about what I said last night?” I ask her seriously.
Nardi’s shoulders hike to her ears. She grumbles to the window, “Last night wasn’t funny, Cullen. Do I look like a joke to you?”
“No.” I slow down in front of a red light and allow my eyes to slide over her pretty face, damp hair and simple T-shirt and jeans combo. “You look beautiful.” I reach out and slide my fingertips over the ends of her hair. “But were you in a rush? Your hair is wet. Did you try to wash it with one hand?”
“No.” She pauses. “Yes.”
“Not a good idea, Nardi.” I pull the vehicle into the parking lot of the apartment.
“Thanks. Noted.” Nardi pops her door open and stomps away.
I round the car more slowly, watching her with a smile. Her hips sway back and forth as she glides away. My pants tighten as I stare unabashedly at her. This woman is a work of art, even from behind.
Nardi stops suddenly and starts patting around her jeans. When she spins around and looks accusingly at me, I dangle the keys from my ring finger.
She stomps back over to me and tries to grab the keys out of my grip. At her first swipe, I move in the opposite direction. The second time, I switch the keys to my left hand. The third time, I lift the keys high above my head like it’s a mistletoe.
Nardi hops, arms outstretched. Her gaze is fastened determinedly on the car keys, so she doesn’t see my hand moving to snake around her waist. Gravity drags her back down and, at the same time, I drag her against my chest, being careful not to smash her wrist in the process.
Her eyelashes flutter and she goes still, her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’. Inches away from her face, I see the silky smooth texture of her brown skin and thick eyelashes. Nardi is more than her pretty face and her sweet little body, but I definitely won’t mind spending the last of my life staring at her.
“I wish I could go upstairs with you now,” I say. “But there’s something at work I’ve got to take care of.”
“U-upstairs?” She stammers, blinking rapidly. “Who said I’d invite you upstairs?”
“Wait for me tonight,” I say in a low voice.
Her eyes bug and I can’t resist the urge to press a kiss to the tip of her nose.
Nardi gasps.
With a smirk, I hand her the breakfast I prepared and the keys. “Later, princess.”
I’m halfway to my office when I hear Nardi sputter, “Ronan Cullen, if you think for one second…!”
The rest of her words are lost as I laughingly push the entrance to my office open and let the door shut behind me.
After meeting with our lawyers and the core team made up of myself, Asad and Dr. Young, we decide to fight fire with fire and threaten a lawsuit of our own.
I need to swing by Sullivan’s office to update him on all that’s been going on and also to get his advice.
But first, there’s someone else I need to speak to.
Darrel Hastings’ neuropsychology center is not at all what I pictured. The driver lets me off in front of an unassuming townhome with a simple sign on the front.
Inside, the quiet, vintage theme continues with wooden flooring, intricately carved wooden pillars and warm, sconce lights.
An older woman with the name tag ‘Donna’ attached to the top of her nursing uniform greets me when I enter.
“You must be,” she checks her computer, “Ronan Cullen.”
“I am.”
She smiles. “Darrel told me to clear his schedule when you called. You must be a friend.”
I start to correct her. Then I change my mind. “Yes.”
Donna says nothing more as she leads me down three short stairs and into a hallway with several doors. One of the signs on the doors read ‘LAB ROOM’ and I’m immensely curious to see what machines are in there.
Unfortunately, we keep going until we get to a door with no markings at all.
Donna opens the door for me. “Right in there.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you want coffee, tea, something to eat?”
I grimace at the thought of Donna touching these door handles—that probably hundreds of unwashed hands have touched—and then going to fix my coffee.
“No thank you,” I say.
“You made the right choice,” Darrel says from deeper in the room. “Donna’s coffee can make a plant shrivel up and die.”
Donna snorts. “Because I like my coffee black. Like your soul.”
Darrel smirks.
Donna winks at me. “I’ll leave you men to it.”
I shut the door myself. “Mr. Hastings. I appreciate you clearing your schedule.”
“You can call me Darrel,” he reminds me gently. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you… Darrel.”
Surprise flits over his face, but he covers it well. Smoothing a hand down his tie, Darrel moves into a wingback chair in front of his desk. I take the sofa and look around.
The office has little furniture save for his desk, the chairs, a bookcase and a file cabinet. However, there’s something warm about the room, something that I can’t place a finger on.
“Impressed?”
“There’s something… bright about this room. I didn’t expect it.”
“It was decorated by my wife.” A smile flits across his face as if his mouth can’t help but arch up at the mention of her.
“And those are your sons?” I point to the picture frames on his desk. The tall, brown-skinned woman with the long black hair in the photo is his wife Sunny. I recognize her from that day we shared lunch at the café.
There are two little boys—a shorter one with round glasses and a taller one with black hair.
“Yes.” He slides his hands together and balances them on his knee. “They’re growing so fast. I can’t keep up.”
My lips twist sadly. I’ll never have the opportunity to see Josiah grow up. Never get to see what he does with the tools I want to leave to him.
Silence settles between us and it’s more comfortable than I expected. I realize that I don’t know much about Darrel Hastings but, perhaps, he’s a little like me. That first time I rushed him out of my house and the second time, our meeting was abducted by his wife and Nardi.
However, I can tell that Darrel Hastings is no stranger to silence. In fact, like me, he seems comfortable with it.
Unfortunately, if I wanted to sit in silence, I could have just stayed at home.
“Are you waiting for me to speak?”
“I’m trying to decide if you’re here to see me professionally or personally.”
“What happens if I say it’s professional?”
“You’ll need to fill out some forms. Donna will take your credit card. I might suggest a brain scan after this. You’ll need to fill out more forms.”
“A brain scan sounds fun.”
His laughter is subdued. “You didn’t answer my question. Is this personal or professional?”
“Can I say it’s a little of both?”
“You can.” Darrel studies me. “I was surprised when you called.”
“It was a necessary step.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I had a conversation with someone last night that changed my mind about a few things.”
“Tell me more about that conversation.”
I tilt my head, tracing the events of my night with Nardi. “You can say… it was a conversation that held a mirror up to me. I saw my reflection and I felt like a hypocrite.”
“A hypocrite?”
“I gave advice that I haven’t been following.”
“What was the advice?”
I glance pointedly at Darrel. “To ask for help when you need it.”
This time, he keeps his fixed, unreadable look, but I can tell my answer threw him for a loop.
“And what do you need help with?”
“I want to say something important, but I don’t really have a friend to… I don’t have friends,” I finish lamely.
Darrel smiles. “What did you want to say?”
“I’m going to love someone,” I declare.
“Going to?”
“Yes.” I dip my chin down once. “I’m going to love her with every bit of the strength I have left. I won’t leave any crumbs. I’ll let her wipe me out completely.” My heart thuds as the words leave my lips. The rightness of that decision settles on me again and I wonder if this is why poets write and singers sing.
“Let me guess… the person you’re referring to is Nardi?”
“That obvious?”
“You let her deposit a bag of greasy French fries right in your hand.”
“To be fair, I did sanitize afterwards.”
“Still…”
I nod. “Yeah, still…”
“She’s important to you. Important enough that nothing else matters.”
“Right.”
“Is this the first time you’ve been in love with someone?”
“In love? Is that what I am?”
“Most people would say so.”
“I don’t think I’m in love.” I frown because the term has always meant so little to me. “I’m going to love.”
“Can you explain the difference?”
“Being ‘in love’ means I can fall out of it. There’s no falling in or out. I’ve made my decision.”
“You can also decide to stop,” Darrel points out. “The risk of love is that it can’t be controlled. You have to choose, and the other person has to choose. If either one decides to do something else, the relationship breaks.”
“Maybe that’s true for other people, but it’s not for me. I meant what I said. I’ve decided to love.”
“Maybe you can explain more,” Darrel offers.
“Decide comes from the Latin word ‘ decidere ’ which means to cut off.”
“To cut off… what?”
“Any other options.”
His eyes wander slightly to the left in the direction of his family’s photograph. “I’ve made a few choices like that.”
“Is there any going back for you?”
Darrel clutches his pen a little tighter. “Never.”
“Then you made a decision. Not a choice. Choices leave options open. Decisions don’t.”
Darrel bobs his head. “For someone who rarely speaks, you have very deep thoughts.”
“I’m glad you see it that way. It’s a pain to put my own thoughts in order in my head, much less get them out in a way that makes sense to other people. But it’s not difficult here. I guess that’s why you’re good at your job.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. I’m enjoying this conversation.”
I smile, not realizing how much I am too.
“I’m also happy for you, Cullen. I know, after marrying Sunny, what love can do. How having a partner makes life so much better.”
“Maybe that’s why I’m excited. I’ve never felt anything this intensely. I’m fortunate to be in a position where I get to love someone like this before I die.”
He goes sober again. “You don’t seem scared to die.”
“No.”
“Do you have family?”
“No. My mom is dead and my father… is dead too.”
“How did your parents die?”
“My mother had a stroke.”
Darrel waits a beat and, when I don’t speak, he adds, “And your father?”
“Drug overdose.”
He blinks.
I hold myself very still, refusing to let my mind wander over to anything that has to do with my father. I’m not ready to go there.
Darrel hesitates. “Can I ask you a question?”
“If you have to ask permission, it must be a doozy of a question,” I respond.
“Does Nardi know that you haven’t been going to the hospital and, thus,” he chooses his words carefully, “you might be shortening the time you have left to spend with her?”
I pause. “Yes.”
Darrel nods slowly. “Can I ask why you haven’t been answering the hospital’s calls?”
I knew this question would come up. It’s why Sullivan sent Darrel to my house, like an emotional firefighter trying to put out a house fire.
“What you’re really asking is why I’m choosing to die,” I tell him.
“Maybe that’s what you heard,” Darrel argues, his voice even. “And maybe that’s the question you’re wrestling with, but it’s not what I asked.”
He has a point. “Touché.”
“You won’t even go to see your results. It might be good news.”
“It’s not.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve had several rounds of chemo.” I stiffen, my mouth angled downward. “Around the fourth and fifth cycles, the fatigue hit me like a freight train. By cycle seven, my white blood cell count was virtually at zero. I was in and out of the hospital and building Cullen Tech with a completely compromised immune system.”
“But you seem okay now,” Darrel looks me over. “On the outside I mean.”
“My body started purging it out.” I shudder at the memories of how painful that purge was. “I mostly went back to normal.”
“Mostly?”
“Mostly.”
“So now you’re…?”
“Dying.”
“How do you know? You haven’t seen the test results.”
“I have.”
The two words drop like a rock.
Darrel inhales sharply. “What do you mean you have? Dare said?—”
“Richard Sullivan came to his own conclusions after the hospital called him. It’s not his fault he misunderstood. They wouldn’t have told him details, so he wouldn’t know.”
“I’m still trying to process. You know your latest test results? Then the hospital is calling, not to inform you but to…” His face pales. “They want you to come in for treatment.”
“They want me to fight it.”
“And you said no.”
“The surgery offers no guarantee, and remission doesn’t mean I’ll be healthy forever. At most, I’ll gain a few more months. Maybe a year.”
“But you’ll live.”
“At what cost?” I counter. “It’s just starting another countdown. I’ll be tethered to the hospital, too tired to build Cullen Tech or do anything that makes me feel alive. I’ll be breathing but dead.”
“What about Nardi?”
“This has nothing to do with her.”
“But you care for her.”
“I won’t ask her to choose me.”
“Why not?”
“Because the choice is going to be taken from her.”
Darrel leans forward, his eyes intent on me. “Will you continue to avoid the hospital? Will you refuse to get treatments, even if it’s for Nardi?”
I pause and consider that question. “I won’t go back to the hospital.”
“It sounds like you’ve decided.”
“Yes.”
“So then you haven’t truly decided on Nardi.” Darrel looks at me steadily.
His words cut me to the quick, but I won’t deny it.
I’m prepared to love Nardi until I die.
But I won’t love her enough to live.