Here goes...

We all pressed back against the wall of the subway station as a car swept down the street and a wave of water erupted from the puddle.

'Bastard!' Mark exclaimed as we were sprayed with muddy droplets.

'Should we just go back and get changed now?' Roger remarked, looking down at the wet spots all over his jeans. 'And then not bother going at all?'

Neither of us dignified him with a response. He'd been grumbling all evening about making the journey uptown to Joanne's apartment for Maureen's birthday celebration. I had to admit that it had seemed less attractive since the weather had broken shortly after we'd returned from Central Park that afternoon. The driving rain now bore no relation to the stifling heat we'd endured for the past week. There was a smell of lightning in the air, suggesting that maybe the city would be more comfortable after this spell of rain. It didn't make the current weather any more desirable though.

I shivered inside my thin cotton summer dress. The dash down the block from our building had resulted in my hair asserting its independence again and I was desperately trying to twist it into sections, wondering if I could pull off the grunge look which had been so popular on the fashion scene recently. I expected I couldn't.

Checking his watch, Mark glanced down the street. 'Where is he? He was supposed to be here ten minutes ago.'

Roger glanced up from where he was lighting a cigarette. 'Probably got himself mugged again.'

Seeing Mark's anxiety divided between Collins's well-being and Roger's smoking would have been funny if it wasn't so painful. For several moments it was clear that he couldn't quite make his mind up what to do. Then he gave Roger a withering look. 'I'm going to see if I can find him. I'll be back in a minute.' Turning the collar of his jacket up against the rain, he trotted away down the street.

'You're doing it again.'

'What?' Roger took a long drag.

'Worrying him. Do you have to?'

Smiling, he asked, 'When did you become Mark's carer?'

'I'm not. I just... well, I don't see anyone else volunteering for the job. Least of all Mark.' I shook my head. 'Sorry, it's none of my business really...'

For once, Roger's reply interrupted mine. 'No, you're right.' Dropping his cigarette to the ground, he looked to me, his eyebrows raised. 'Happy?'

'Happier,' I conceded.

'Then leave your hair alone.' He stood up and caught my hand, pulling it away from where I'd been frantically fiddling with the frizzy strands.

'It looks awful.'

'It looks fine.' His fingers linked through mine for an instant. And then, just as abruptly, he dropped my hand entirely and took a step away from me. 'So you made it then?' His last words were directed over my shoulder at where Collins and Mark were making their way towards us.

'Would I miss one of Mo's get-togethers?' Collins called back with a broad grin. 'Sorry for the wait. I was just getting supplies.' He patted his pocket meaningfully before opening his arms to me. 'Cat, macherie,how are the mean streets of New York treating you?'

'Wonderfully.' I stepped into his hug gratefully, feeling a little abandoned since Roger had dropped my hand. 'How are you?'

'Cannot complain. So are getting this show on the road or not?' With an arm still draped over my shoulder, Collins gestured towards the subway station.

'We were waiting for you!'

'Roger my friend, just because you appear to be in a good mood this evening does not mean you can criticise my time-keeping.' Collins folded his other arm around Roger. 'God knows we've spent enough time hanging around for you. So come on, bitches.'

As we bought our tickets, I was able to slip out of Collins's grasp and dropped back to walk with Mark.

'Have you heard from Stacey yet?'

He shook his head. 'No. I wasn't expecting to. Not yet.'

'I thought it went well.' Mark had certainly seemed more positive yesterday when I spoke to him. The date had been a modest success and he hoped that they'd repeat the venture in the future.

'It did. I think. It's complicated.' He shook his head. 'Come on, let's get on the train.'

It was clear that the topic of conversation was closed and we boarded the train. Collins regaled us with a tale of his latest protest at NYU. I tried to listen but couldn't help being distracted by the pressure of Roger's leg against mine as he sat beside me on the train. There was a layer of thick denim and cotton between our skins but that didn't stop the searing sensation every time he so much has shifted his weight. The subway was much cooler now than it had been earlier in the day but I could feel my cheeks burning and I was almost grateful when we reached our stop and I was able to move away from him. Almost.

Joanne's apartment was exactly as I'd expected it to be: large, ordered and minimalist. Or at least, it would be minimalist if it wasn't for the preparations Maureen had put in place for her party to celebrate her twenty-ninth birthday. Every spare space was covered in the sort of decorations you'd have expected to find at a child's birthday party, from banners and bunting to paper lanterns and party poppers. It turned out that Maureen's love for parties was second only to her love for birthdays.

'And here we are at the birthday girl's party. Twenty nine again?' Mark greeted Maureen with his camera in hand, recording the moments of the evening from the very beginning.

'We aren't all as old as you,' Maureen replied, before throwing her arms around me. 'You came! Come in! Oh my God, Roger?'

'Hi Maureen.' Roger accepted her hug with his usual stiffness, before moving through into the main living space of the apartment. I followed him as Maureen greeted Collins with typical enthusiasm.

'Hey.' Joanne waved a greeting. 'Drinks?'

'Please.' It was one of the rare occasions when Mark and Roger acted as a pair and spoke as one. All I'd seen of the flatmates over the last week had been them pulling in different directions so to see them agreeing on something was a novelty. I stifled a laugh.

Like it was all he'd been listening for, Roger turned to look at me. 'Have you got any champagne for Cat?'

Before I could protest, Maureen swept back into the room. 'Of course! What's a party without champagne? Well, sparkling wine, but whatever!' She pulled a bottle from the fridge and took a long swig from it, before handing it to me. 'What?' she asked, looking around at the others' astonished faces. 'What?'

'I think we can probably stretch to glasses,' Joanne surmised, handing me a wine glass.

'Classy,' Mark deadpanned.

'We need music,' Maureen declared. 'Collins, help me choose some!' She dragged him over to the stereo in the corner of the room.

'So how many has she had already?' Mark asked.

'Enough.' Joanne lifted her own beer up. 'You know it's her thirtieth, right?'

'Of course. And she's dealing with it so well.'

'You'd think after we'd all turned thirty she'd be fine with it,' Roger remarked, watching as Maureen whooped excitedly and pulled Collins into a tango. 'And yet here we are.'

It felt very unlike a party suddenly. Whilst Maureen appeared to be having a wild time, Collins seemed to merely be indulging her whims. My sister Amelia had turned thirty earlier that year and had celebrated with a dignified dinner for some of her closest friends. Admittedly, I would never have taken my sister's advice on how to mark a milestone like that, and Maureen and Amelia couldn't have been more different, but even so, it didn't feel much like a thirtieth birthday. From the way everybody was watching with sad eyes as she behaved more and more erratically, it felt more like a farewell party. It reminded me of our final university ball, a melancholy tinged affair which had ended with more than one person in floods of tears. This wasn't really what I'd expected from a Maureen Johnson birthday.

Now she gestured at me. 'Cat! Come on!' It was clear she wanted to involve somebody else in her mad dashes around the room which we were all pretending were recognised Latin dances. They weren't like anything I'd learnt in the ballroom dancing lessons I'd taken when I was seventeen.

I glanced around at the others. Mark, Joanne and Roger's eyes all locked onto mine as they waited to see what I'd do.

'You don't have to,' Mark muttered.

'Just tell her no,' Joanne added.

Roger said nothing.

'Cat! Come on!'

My life had followed a seemingly unbroken path since the day I was born. I'd behaved exactly as my parents had intended, obeying their rules and the expectations from everybody around me. I'd been unexceptional at most things, passing exams with reasonable grades and taking part in various team sports at school. I'd had a few steady relationships with boys and men who were equally as compliant in the things they did. In short, my life had been entirely predictable.

It was time to take a different path.

Grabbing the bottle of sparkling wine, I followed Maureen's earlier lead and took a long swig from it. I'd never drunk straight from a bottle before and I was surprised by how heavy the bottle was, and how much it hurt when it momentarily bashed into my front teeth. Undaunted, I tossed my hair back, gave Roger a particularly defiant look and joined Maureen and Collins.

As the evening progressed, a more party-like atmosphere infiltrated the apartment. Some of Maureen's friends from the off-Broadway shows she frequented arrived, bringing more alcohol and a sense of chaos to the usually genteel surroundings. I'd been to a few house parties at university and things seemed to already be crazier than anything I'd experienced before. And yet I didn't mind, as the sparkling wine took its effect. What's more, I was in the middle of the madness and it felt as though I was enjoying it. I couldn't be completely sure as I couldn't quite feel my toes anymore, let alone anything beyond a vague blurriness. I was definitely behaving most unlike the Catherine I'd been in England for the last twenty-four years; that had to be a positive of a sort.

It took me a while to realise that there was more than just alcohol being passed around from person to person. By the time Collins caught my hand and threw me into a particularly spectacular (to my mind) spin, the smell of marijuana was heavy in the air and more than one person around me was wiping their nose in what they hoped was a nonchalant way. As I tucked myself under Collin's arm, I found myself in a small group, including Maureen, who were passing a joint around. For the first time in a couple of hours, I had a rational thought that maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Drinking was one thing, drugs was something else. Of course I'd come across drugs before; the wealthy had their vices the same as anybody else. Somehow I'd never been overly tempted though, preferring to err on the side of caution.

The conversation was hard to follow. They seemed to be discussing some sort of philosophical theory, the sort of conversation I'd dreamt about when I'd been trapped in one of the mind-numbing gossiping sessions which was a mainstay of the sorts of parties I attended in London. Now it was a reality though, I found it far too heavy-going and difficult. It was certainly highlighting my own ignorance. The longer I stayed listening, the more inadequate I felt, not least because I was the only one unable to contribute an opinion.

Finally, there was an opening in the conversation as Maureen directly addressed me. 'Cat, do you want a drag?'

All eyes turned onto me and my stomach tightened at being the centre of attention. I hadn't spoken for the whole time I'd been standing there. Flustered, the words slipped out. 'Yes, sure.'

Maureen handed it over and the conversation resumed around me, with people only occasionally giving me glance, presumably to see when I'd be done with their joint. I stalled for as long as I could, trying to look casual and experienced, but really just putting off the inevitable. I knew I couldn't stall for much longer.

Finally, I lifted the joint to my lips and took what I hoped was a fairly small drag on it. For a moment, it felt as though I'd achieved the impossible, smoking for the first time without making a complete fool of myself. The sickly sweet scent of cannabis drifted past my nose, but I thought I'd be okay.

And then the smoke hit the back of my throat. In an instant, it felt as though someone was sitting on my chest, preventing me from breathing properly. The taste of the drug coated my mouth and it was all I could do not to retch there and then. Suddenly I knew that on this occasion I'd gone too far.

'You okay?' Collins asked suddenly. He glanced down at me, a questioning look on his face. It was as though he'd sensed the change in me.

Pride got in my way. 'Of course.' It would have taken too much to force my mouth into a smile and so I settled for handing him the joint. 'Excuse me a moment.'

I blundered my way across the apartment, looking for somewhere out of the way that I could sit down and try to regain some control over myself. The thought of anybody else seeing me in this state was mortifying and I hoped I'd manage to escape the main living area without being waylaid by either Mark and his camera or Joanne's impeccable hospitality.

A single corridor led off the living area. The bathroom was locked and so I stumbled past. The next door revealed an immaculate guest bedroom, all creams and coffee colours. It was deserted. Gratefully, I made my way across the room to the bed. The numb feeling had spread from my toes into my feet and I fell more than sat down onto the bed. Cradling my head in my hands, I concentrated on trying not to be sick and on not groaning too loudly. And on not falling face first onto the carpet.

My concentration was spread a little too thinly and I felt myself begin the slow descent to the ground.

'Whoa whoa whoa!' Firm hands gripped my shoulders and hauled me back onto the bed. Lifting my head from my hands, I came face to face with Roger. He looked concerned. 'Cat, what's happened?'

All I could do was give a low moan and let my head drop again, suddenly exhausted. I hoped he'd soon leave me alone so I could go to sleep.

'Cat?' He gripped my chin and forced me to look him in the eye again. 'No, don't go to sleep. What's happened? What have you taken?'

'No...nothing.' My tongue felt too large for my mouth but I managed to force that out.

I felt him grab both of my arms and pull them out in front of me, exposing the soft skin in the crooks of my elbow. Only after he'd done that did he put his hand on my face again, gentler and calmer this time. Even my churning stomach settled underneath its warmth.

'Okay, let's have a look. How much have you drunk?' It seemed he was speaking more to himself than to me. 'And you stink of pot.' Without warning, he pulled my eyelid back.

'Ouch!'

'Oh, you can feel that?' There seemed to be a hint of humour in his voice now, and as I opened my other eye I saw the very beginnings of a smile on his face. 'Fucking hell, Cat. I only took my eyes off you for a few seconds.' He sighed. 'Look, I'm going to get you a drink of water and then I think we should get you home.'

'No!' A sudden fear of being left completely alone swept over me. It was almost entirely fuelled by the drink and marijuana, but it was real enough for me to be able to grab at his hand as he stood up.

'I'll only be a few minutes! Cat!' I must have looked particularly pathetic as he gave another sigh and crouched back down in front of me. 'Okay, I'll go in a minute. How do you feel?'

'Horrible.'

'That'll be the sparkling wine. God, Cat, what am I going to do with you? First your knee, now this. Why are you always trying to be something you're not?' The last was said in a near whisper as his fingers brushed against my jaw again.

I could blame it on the drink or the drugs or the fact that I was currently feeling incredibly sorry for myself, having disgraced myself at the first real party I'd attended in New York. Or I could blame it on the fact that I'd wanted Roger to kiss me since we'd met at the subway station this evening.

It was messy. For the second time that evening, I bashed my teeth into something. Roger seemed so taken aback that he didn't respond initially. Then, as I buried my hands in his hair, he put both hands on my face. He tasted of beer and cigarettes. There was a hunger in his kiss, a desperation which should have startled me. Instead, it only endeared him to me further. As I leaned backwards, relieved to finally be allowed to lie down even if it was with Roger's weight on top of me, a thought passed through my head: this really isn't your usual behaviour. But it was... good. It was the most natural thing I'd done for a long time.

And then it all came crashing down around us.

'And let's see who's the first to pass out!' A gleeful giggle sounded at the door, accompanied by a warning from Mark: 'Maureen, be careful!'

The door swung open. Roger scrambled to his feet, guilt and fear all over his face as we both stared at the people in the doorway. Maureen was clutching Mark's camera which was now pointed at the ground. Behind her stood Mark, his mouth open in a perfect circle. Both were staring at us.

'Oh my God!' The words escaped from Maureen's mouth without her usual enthusiasm.

With Roger's hand still linked through mine, I found myself pulled upright. My dress had ridden up to show off my tan lines and I knew my lipstick was smeared around my mouth. And Roger's, it turned out, from a quick glance in his direction. My face rapidly turned the same colour.

'What's going on? Are you two...?' Maureen was lost for words. It wouldn't happen much in the time I knew her. I should have enjoyed the moment more instead of feeling sick to my stomach.

'No, we're... we're not...' Roger seemed to be about to deny everything. I felt the betrayal like somebody had punched me in the gut. And then his hand closed more tightly around mine. How was it that I'd never noticed that before? The last two days I'd felt as though I was being guided through Manhattan by him. Suddenly I realised that he'd been hanging onto me. I squeezed his hand back and it seemed as though that was all he needed. 'We're not doing anything wrong.'

'We didn't say you were.'

'Cat, are you okay?' Mark asked suddenly, pushing past Maureen and coming towards me.

'Why wouldn't she be?' There was a warning edge in Roger's voice, as though he was daring Mark to say something more.

'Roger, he didn't mean anything...'

'I want to know what he's asking for.'

'Mark...' Maureen sounded tired and scared suddenly, a world away from her usual self. I wouldn't have thought it possible for this woman to be reduced in this way.

'I was only asking, she looks...'

'She's drunk too much. And, I don't know, probably smoked something she shouldn't have.'

'Yeah, she did,' Maureen agreed. 'Mark, it's cool. She probably just needs to sleep it off.'

'I'm fine,' I insisted, mustering the words up from somewhere. My stomach was still churning and everything seemed slightly off-key, as though the world had tilted an extra degree to the left. But I was mostly fine.

'We should get you home. Come on.' Mark offered me a hand to get up off the bed.

'I can take her.' Roger's grip on my hand tightened. I'd have complained if I hadn't found forming words quite so difficult.

'Is that really such a good idea?'

'Why wouldn't it be?'

'Guys, come on!' Maureen tried to stop the two men snapping at each other. 'This isn't helping anybody. Cat can stay here.'

'Hey, what's the shouting about?' The bedroom had seemed vast when I first stumbled into it, but with the arrival of Collins, it suddenly felt too small and claustrophobic. I'd have killed for a breath of fresh air or to escape from this horrible tense situation. I didn't even know why there was such an atmosphere.

'I'm taking Cat home.'

'Roger, I just said, she can stay here!'

'Why is my taking her home such a problem?'

'It's not!' Mark insisted but even I could tell there was something going on here, something nobody was telling me. There'd been that sensation in the background before: the way Maureen had worried about my taking the apartment; the way both Mark and Roger spoke about the city. At the time, I'd been curious if too polite to probe any further. Now I had the feeling that whatever it was they were all hiding was about to come out – and that I wouldn't like it.

'Oh come on, Mark! Say it!' Roger faced his flatmate down. 'You know exactly why you've got such a problem with this!'

'Roger, don't!' If I hadn't known better, I would have said Maureen was on the verge of tears. 'Just... calm down.'

'Mo's right, Roger. Chill.' Collins took a step towards his friend, hoping to have some sort of calming effect.

'What's going on?' It had taken me so long to force the words out, rolling them around and trying to get my tongue to form the right shapes. It was ironic that by the time I'd said them, I was certain I didn't want to know the answer.

It was as though they'd all forgotten about me. There was a silence as they all stared at me. No one seemed to want to speak, to answer my question and finally let the long-hidden truth out. So I turned to the one person I hoped wouldn't let me down.

'Roger?

His eyes slid away from mine, looking around at everybody and everything else than me. For a moment it seemed that his anger would return, that his words would fall like bullets on anybody who dared to breathe. Then he closed his eyes and it was as though he aged ten years in front of my eyes. The sadness and weariness I'd seen around him before took over. I wanted to take my words back, to try and stop it happening, but it was already too late.

When he finally spoke, his voice was at odds with his face. He spoke like a much younger man, one who wanted somebody to make what he said go away, to wake him up from the nightmare he'd found himself living in. It was a feeling I could immediately identify with as his words hit me. 'I'm HIV positive.' Sobs choked his throat. 'I'm... sorry.' Dropping my hand, he pushed past his friends and bolted out of the door.

'Roger, wait!' Mark called after his flatmate but to no avail. As if any of us thought that would stop him.

I vaguely heard Maureen unleash a tirade of words, some directed at Mark, some at the absent Roger. I wasn't sure what she was saying or why she was so angry. It seemed irrelevant. All I could hear with any clarity was an echo of what Roger had said before he left: I'm HIV positive. I'm sorry. I'm HIV positive. I'm... sorry.

'Hey.' A hand closed around mine and I found myself jerking back into the present as Collins sat down beside me on the bed. 'You okay?'An instinct made me nod my head. Then, as I felt Collins's stare penetrate into me, I shook it. 'You want to go home?' An unequivocal nod.

Collins stood up and pulled me up gently beside him. 'I'm going to see Cat home.'

Mark and Maureen broke off from their war of words. 'I can do that,' Mark began to say, as Maureen said, 'She can stay!'

'It's not a problem.' Collins spoke with such authority that the others had no choice but to be quiet. 'Great party, Mo. One of the best.' She gave him a wobbly smile and accepted his kiss on the cheek. 'Cohen, I'll see you tomorrow. Come on, Cat.'

I avoided looking anyone in the eye as Collins led me through the apartment to the front door. In the elevator, I even avoided looking at myself in the full length mirrors on all sides. If I could just focus on my feet and putting them in front of each other, maybe I'd be okay. Maybe I could get home and go to bed and when I woke up tomorrow, this would all go away. My return flight home was open-ended; maybe it was time to use it. I startled myself by even thinking that. This afternoon England couldn't have been further from my future plans. Now I wondered if I'd be better off there. At least I understood the world I'd left behind.

It took until we were sat down on the subway for Collins to break the silence between us.

'How are you feeling?'

'Awful.'

'I shouldn't have brought that pot. I'm sorry.'

I turned to look at him in astonishment. 'It's not your fault. I could have said no.'

'Even so.' And we descended into silence again.

I picked at the skin around my nails. It was amazing how quickly my perfect French manicure, re-done once a week at a top salon in London, had come undone. The remnants of that ill-fated scarlet polish remained on a few fingers, but the overriding image of my hands was how red and scarred they were becoming. That was the difference between working and not working, I supposed.

'Is this why you all worry about Roger so much?' I hadn't really known I was going to ask but once the question was out there, I realised that remaining silent on the subject wasn't helping. All that was happening was that I reliving those few seconds when the evening had turned completely beyond repair. Maybe talking about it would be the solution.

Collins smiled. 'Amongst other things.'

'Such as?' When no reply came, I tried another line of inquiry. Somehow whilst I was getting information, it didn't seem so real, so much like it was happening to me. 'Why did no one tell me?'

'It wasn't our place. Roger would have told you. Eventually. If you needed to know.' The last was said with a whole lot of meaning behind it and I looked away from him. I knew what he was saying but it didn't stop the feeling of having been lied to. 'It's not an easy thing to tell people, Cat. And Roger has had more trouble than most with it.'

'Why?' My decades old manners suddenly caught up with me. 'Sorry, Collins, it's... not your job, I should...'

'It's fine.' With a reassuring smile, he continued. 'Roger's had a lot of... stuff to deal with over the last few years. He hasn't always dealt with it well. I think it's sometimes been too much. And he's liable to look on the dark side of things anyway. Musicians!' He rolled his eyes and chuckled to himself.

I stared down the carriage at where a young couple were talking, heads together and hands entwined. They looked locked away in another world, so happy in each other's company. It was exactly what I'd thought was going on between Roger and me. Now it seemed what I'd pictured in my head and the reality were poles apart. 'I can't see much on the light side.'

'It depends how you look at it. If I hadn't contracted it...'

'Wait!' I interrupted and stared at Collins in shock. 'You?'

'Me. We don't all go shouting about it in public, you know. Just Roger.'

'I'm sorry.'

'I'm not.' In response to my disbelieving look, he explained. 'Without this illness, I wouldn't have done a lot of things. I've met some incredible people. Like Angel.'

'Who's Angel?'

'My boyfriend.'

'Your...?' I stumbled over my words. 'I've never met... no one ever mentions...'

'No, they don't.' For the first time that evening, Collins sounded bitter. Obviously the absence of Angel in his friends' conversations and lives upset him. In the brief pause between his words, I wondered why it was that they didn't talk about him, what it was he'd done that made him such an outcast. They seemed open and caring; surely anybody Collins loved would be welcomed without hesitation? 'He died.' All I could do was stare at him. 'It was a few years ago now. He had AIDS.'

'I'm sorry.'

'He was the best thing that ever happened to me. What I'm saying, Cat,' he said, trying to steer the conversation onwards, 'is that it depends how you look at things. This disease has led to some of the most wonderful times in my life. And the worst.'

'And what about Roger?' Collins pulled a face and turned away. 'You said he'd been through a lot. Like what? Collins, please.'

There was a long pause. 'You should ask him.'

'And you think he'd tell me?'

The train came to a halt and Collins stood up. He pulled me to my feet. 'I think he might.'

As we made our way to street level, I glanced across at him. 'You knew, didn't you? About Roger and... me?'

'I guessed.' He shrugged.

'Not that there's anything to it,' I added hastily, remembering how easily Roger had started to deny it all earlier. 'We've just... spent some time together and...' I trailed off into silence as we walked outside. The earlier rain had stopped and left a much fresher feel in the air. More than fresh, I decided, as I shivered.

'You should get a sweater.'

I smiled. 'I'll remember that for next time. Look, thank you, but I can take it from here.'

'Sure?'

'The building's only there.' I pointed across the street. 'I think even I could make it home safely by myself.'

'I got mugged by that phone box once.' I raised my eyebrows. Collins laughed. 'Sorry, not the most comforting thing I could have said, was it?'

'Not really,' I agreed, but for the first time all evening, my lips curled upwards into a smile. 'Thank you. For bringing me home and... stuff.'

'You're welcome. Come here.' His hug was welcome and I stayed within his arms much longer than I would normally. Within a few minutes I'd be alone in my own apartment and would have the whole night to think over the events of today. If I could prolong this time even by a few seconds, it would be worth it.

'You gonna be okay?'

'Of course.'

Collins let me go. Then he added, 'He'll be on the roof.'

'Sorry?'

'Roger. He thinks no one knows but I've known the guy almost ten years, there's not much I don't know about him by now. Whenever he needs some space, he always heads for the roof.'

'Why do I need to know this?

All Collins did was raise his eyebrows. As he turned away, he called over his shoulder, 'Get a sweater.'