by Anne McClane
He responded with labored breaths and surprisingly melodious grunts. It sounded like he might break out into song. Lacey marveled at the rhythm and his strength. How long could he keep her suspended like this?
When he gently placed her back into a standing position, Lacey thought they were done. She turned off the water.
She turned around to face Nathan, and he placed his hand on her shoulder. He pushed her against the wall of the shower with a firm and sudden movement. With his other hand he felt her, still flooded at her center. The swift transition heightened the sensation.
He used that hand to guide himself into her. Before, he must have channeled some of his strength into carrying her weight. This time, she felt his full force. She extended her arm behind her head to keep it from banging into the wall. Something that had been caged a very long time, in both of them, was released.
Nathan’s strange melody faded, silent as he drove into her repeatedly. Lacey’s head echoed with a sound.
Ga-dunk.
Like repeating anvils, syncing with each thrust he made into her. Lacey called out, a wild spirit escaping her through her vocal cords. When she felt him come inside her, she responded in kind, her cry sounding a flash of light that sparked in the center of her brain.
That light wiped out everything. Lacey felt like her reset button had been punched. Her mind a blank, she stared at Nathan, eyes wild.
He turned away and grabbed towels from the rack outside the shower. He went to Lacey, her back still against the wall, her head now down and staring at the drain. He wrapped her in a towel, as he would a child.
“You’re burning up,” he said, startled.
“It’ll pass,” she answered. She knew what had transpired. “How’s your concussion?” she asked.
He smiled. “Please relax. I don’t have a concussion. God, I feel great, actually.”
He lifted his hand to touch the side of Lacey’s face, but her look told him to pull back. Her eyes searched his face.
Nathan caught on.
“Oh. Really?” he said. “You think you just, uh, did your thing?”
She lifted her shoulders, felt some normalcy return. “I think I just had an out-of-body experience, is what I think,” she said.
Nathan laughed involuntarily. “I’m just that good, baby.”
Lacey moved away from the wall of the shower and wrapped her towel around her. She smiled at him and said, “You’re a jackass.” She bent down to pick up his clothes from the floor of the shower. She wrung them out.
“Seem like a good time for housekeeping?” Nathan asked.
“Unless you want to leave here wearing some remnants left behind by Gone But Not Forgotten, I thought I’d put your clothes in the dryer.”
“Who says I want to leave?”
Lacey stood and faced him. “You’ll leave,” she said. “Eventually.” She caught her breath as something caught her eye. The scar on Nathan’s shoulder. She hadn’t noticed it through the spray and their activity in the shower.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” Lacey said. “Is that—” she reached her hand to his shoulder.
He caught her hand. “Yes. It’s from that night.”
“Does it still hurt?”
“No,” he said. “Maybe just a deep ache occasionally. Like it’s something I got a long time ago.” He released her hand and let her touch his shoulder. Her fingers moved gently over the scar.
“It looks like something from a long time ago,” she said. She peered around his shoulder to his back and saw a smaller pockmark on the opposite side.
“The bullet went through you,” she said. Not like I would’ve remembered if I’d drawn a bullet from him anyway, she thought.
“Yes,” he said, solemn as a graveyard. “Your—your thing, this ability, is pretty miraculous, you know.”
Lacey sighed. “I don’t feel miraculous.” She moved past him and out of the bathroom, her movements deliberate. In the dark hallway, she was overcome.
A torrent of images cascaded upon her. She closed her eyes and braced her free hand against the wall, but they would not stop. Time ceased. Each image felt like it was burned into her retinas:
An older man she did not know sitting in a spacious office. The same man sick in bed.
Fox as a child visiting his mother’s grave.
A country highway and an old, white truck, its front end folded over the cab and a slash of blood on the door.
A mountainside retreat, whitewashed stone reflecting the light from lanterns hanging in the trees.
Lacey inhaled deeply and opened her eyes. How much time had passed? Had someone else’s life flashed before her? She willed herself to take one step, then another, until she approached the laundry room.
She caught her reflection in the mirrored Schlitz beer sign that hung in her kitchen. Her eye was no longer swollen. The cut above it appeared no more than a scratch.
29
Lacey closed the dryer door.
“Oh God!” she said as she turned around. “You scared me!”
Nathan stood in the doorway of the laundry room in nothing but a towel, his arm braced against the frame in a model pose.
“That was not the reaction I was going for,” he said. He positioned into a bodybuilder flex, exaggerating every movement.
Lacey wasn’t sure if he looked so good to her because he was trying to be funny, or in spite of it. Her head was in a spin cycle, alternating between a weightless, untethered amazement and a massive, anchored sense of shame.
She was determined to mask it. “You okay?” she asked.
“Best I’ve felt in five years.” He went to her and circled his arms around her waist. The shame threatened to suffocate her.
She squirmed. Her gaze kept returning to the burden basket on the wall. “You, ah, have really never…strayed before?” she asked.
He kept his hold on her, but his expression lost its ease. He didn’t answer.
“I know I shouldn’t be asking, but really, I’m not fishing,” she said, the words streaming out of her in a fast pitch. “I’m just. I’m just curious. You said five years, and I know you’ve been married for longer, and, well, you know Gone But Not Forgotten?”
“No, not personally,” he said. “But yes, I know I’m not supposed to bring him up for fear of releasing the Incredible Hulk.”
Lacey’s eyes grew wide. She snorted out a laugh and thought of her brother. Jimmy didn’t believe in coincidences. What were the odds of two Hulk comparisons in one night?
“What is it?” Nathan asked.
“Nothing, I’ll tell you later,” she said. “Let me try to finish what I want to tell you.”
Lacey relaxed. “Gone…he and I were in a relationship for a very long time,” she said. “My whole adult life, really. I found out after it had ended that he had been cheating on me the whole time.” The words sounded foreign to Lacey as they came out of her mouth.
“Shit,” Nathan said. He kept a loose hold on her.
“Tell me about it.”
“Did you kill him?” he asked.
“What?” Lacey said, stiffening.
“I’ve figured he’s gone in the literal sense,” Nathan said. “Just a feeling.”
“So you’ve figured he’s dead, and that I killed him?”
“The dead part, yes, but no, I don’t really think you killed him,” he said.
Lacey worked her way out of his embrace and backed up against the washing machine.
“That’s pretty deductive of you,” she said. “Yes, he died last year. And no, I didn’t kill him.”
“Well,” Nathan said, bracing himself against the doorframe again. “I also figure you were married to him.”
“Oh yeah?” Lacey said. “How do you figure that?”
“Your last name’s different from your brother’s.”
“You pay attention to details.”
“Yes,” he said. He looked sad and sweet. “I’m sorry he cheated on you, Lacey. I
can’t imagine why he would go elsewhere, when he had you.”
“Don’t say that,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s too much flattery. Because you don’t know me that well. Maybe I was a shrew and drove him away.”
“I hope you don’t spend too much time believing that about yourself.”
Lacey turned her head toward the laundry room window. She didn’t want to talk about Fox anymore.
“You know, I don’t even feel like I’ve been tempted before,” Nathan said. “Before you. Things with my wife were actually pretty good, early on.”
Lacey returned her gaze to Nathan. “What happened five years ago?” she asked.
“Nothing. Nothing happened. It’s when my youngest started preschool. I think that’s just when things started to…decay.” His words had a ring of finality to them. And Lacey knew, on a gut level, exactly what he meant.
She moved toward him and said, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For asking.” She took his hand and gave it a quick kiss, and led him out of the laundry room to the bedroom.
She awoke not knowing how much time had passed. Light was starting to punch through the frame of her bedroom window shades. She could feel Nathan fast asleep at her back.
That was nothing like it used to be, Lacey thought. Maybe her resentment of Fox, and their shared sense of decay, had enhanced the chemistry between her and Nathan. Then again, she had never saved Fox’s life. That could have something to do with it. She searched for the right description.
We fucked like champions, she thought. Angele might appreciate that. Angele. Shit.
Yes, she could tell Angele. Angele would not judge, at least not in this instance. But the thought of bringing this, whatever it was, outside the secure and intimate world of her home on Florida Boulevard deflated her. She didn’t want the interlude to end, and that scared her more than anything.
She eased out of Nathan’s arms, grabbed a camisole and some cotton shorts, and snuck out of the bedroom. She refused to look back at him.
On her way to the laundry room, she heard Ambrose barking. Ambrose didn’t bark—not at passersby, not at the trains, and not at the squirrels and possums and raccoons that frequented the neighborhood. The most he spoke was a single acknowledgement, a yes or no “woof.” Something wasn’t right.
She went into the guest bathroom and stood on the ledge of the tub. She peered through the clear panes of the window, above the frosted ones. She saw Ambrose in the side yard, standing at attention, barking through the fence. A car moved slowly down the street. The early morning light was low, and Lacey struggled to make out anything distinct about the car. It looked like a cop car, painted a dark color. It disappeared down the street. She didn’t see a license plate.
Ambrose remained stationary at the fence. Lacey hurried to the kitchen door. Ambrose came running as soon as he heard it open.
“You’re a good boy,” she said, rubbing his head. And I’m an idiot, she thought.
She gave Ambrose a treat and asked him to keep watch at the front windows. He nodded his giant head and shuffled to the living room.
Nathan’s an idiot. We’re both idiots. Had he been followed? What had happened to the weaselly junkie who’d got away? Could he have followed Nathan here?
What if the car had been there all night? Why hadn’t the cops told Nathan that someone might still be after him? Maybe they had. She didn’t know what had transpired between him and the detective. She stormed into the bedroom to find Nathan sitting up, hands behind his head, eyes closed.
“Nathan!” She used the same tone she used to command Ambrose.
Nathan opened his eyes and looked at her lazily.
“Why did you come here tonight?”
“I thought we established that already,” he said. “Three times.” He was pleased with himself, which only made Lacey angrier. He got out of bed and stood to the side of it, baring his full frontal. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
Lacey couldn’t help but stare. It was the first time she had seen him flaccid, and he was still impressive. She shook her head and reminded herself why she was so angry. “I just saw a suspicious car,” she said.
“A suspicious car?”
“Yes, no license plate, moving slowly down the street,” she said. “Ambrose was watching it. What if you were followed here? How could you not know to be more careful? Do you want me to get killed too?”
He blew out a deep breath and walked toward her. “I told you I didn’t want to be alone.”
“But why come here?”
“You didn’t want to go out.” He was now directly in front of her. He grabbed a strand of her wavy hair.
“Stop it.” She pushed his hand away.
A stray sunbeam caught the side of her face. It illuminated a previously hidden thought. Lacey’s expression fell. “You’re using me, for protection?” she asked.
“When someone’s trying to kill you,” he replied, “it’s pretty handy to have the company of a healer.”
Lacey turned her back on Nathan.
“Oh God,” she said. She held her head in her hands. “How could I be so stupid?”
“Lacey. Stop it.” His placed his hands on her shoulders. She wanted to shrug them off, but couldn’t.
“Stop it,” he repeated. “Yes, I thought I could be followed. But I had nowhere else to go.”
She heard a different tone in his voice. The flippant air had dissipated, and his guard was down.
“I don’t believe that,” she said.
“I don’t care. It’s the truth. And I knew you, at least you, would be safe here.”
She turned around to face him. “How can you say that? How can you know that?”
“That dog would kill anyone who tried to hurt you, including me,” he said.
Lacey let out a tight laugh, despite herself. “That may be true. But having sex with me seems like a pretty lousy way to keep watch.”
“Would you rather I bored you with stories from my doomed marriage and my father-in-law who is trying to have me killed?” He stepped back and folded his arms. He eyed her up and down. “Jesus. You’re even more beautiful when you’re angry. I didn’t think that could be possible.”
“No you don’t.” She stared at him. “You can’t disarm me with charm. I know those tricks.”
“I don’t care. It’s the truth.”
“Lacey. Listen to me,” he continued. “Things are very…” He stopped, searching for words. “Very uncertain for me right now,” he said. “And there’s no real way for me to…repay you, ever repay you, for what you’ve done. For what you’ve meant.”
“Repay me?” Lacey asked.
“You’ve saved my life,” he said. “Multiple times.”
“Nathan, it doesn’t work that way,” she said, confused.
“Do you know how it works?” he asked.
“No, but, I’m pretty sure sex as a remittance puts all this at a fairly base level,” she said.
Nathan laughed, finally relaxing into his words. “That’s not what I meant. Can you accept, just possibly, that last night was a culmination of something?”
Lacey was silent. The danger outside was still present, but it felt muffled by the danger standing in front of her. It heightened her feelings as she listened to Nathan.
He sensed it. He moved toward her and put his hands on her hips.
“My life, and what I have to face down, is kinda awful right now. Outside of this,” he said, caressing the side of her face. “Let me have this. Let me have you. Now.”
Lacey surrendered with a swift and sudden kiss to his lips.
After a fourth and final coupling, they both knew it was time. At 6:15, the street outside was bright and unthreatening. Kravitz’s crape myrtles had blossomed overnight, the rainbow of colors stretching toward the eastern horizon. Lacey pointed out where she had seen the car. She and Nathan both looked up and down the street before he stepped out ont
o her front porch.
They made no movement to embrace or touch each other. Lacey stood in the doorway, mute. Nathan turned to her, his hand behind him, holding on to the open door.
He looked anguished. “I love you,” he said. He didn’t wait for a reply. He turned his back to her and walked down the front steps, and didn’t look back.
30
Lacey was overloaded, wired and tightly so. More than an hour had passed since she had watched Nathan get in his car and drive away. Time was crawling and barreling down on her, all at once. She wondered if his declaration had been the desperation of a man who might meet death around the next corner. She wondered if she’d ever see him alive again. If she did, she thought she might want to kill him.
She lay on the sofa, trying to sleep. Her attempts were futile. Needing to accomplish something, she put on running shorts and a T-shirt and grabbed Ambrose’s leash.
She and Ambrose set a leisurely pace. Possibly for the first time ever, Lacey hoped she would see Kravitz outside. He did not disappoint. He was on his porch in an undershirt and boxers, cigarette resting in the ashtray, cup of black coffee next to it. Gabi rushed down the steps to greet Ambrose. Lacey relinquished her hold on Ambrose’s leash and let the two animals do their dog greetings.
“What’s happening, Mr. Max?”
“Pretty quiet morning, here,” he said, sounding more gravelly than usual. “Surprised to see you out this early.”
“Yeah, it was kind of a late night last night,” she said, knowing he knew full well the hour she’d made it home. “My brother’s in town; I was Uptown, watching him and his band.”
“Huh! That wasn’t him who left here this morning, was it? I would have said hello.”
Here we go, Lacey thought.
“No, Mr. Max, that wasn’t Jimmy,” she said. “That was a friend of mine; he needed a place to stay.”
“Huh. Nice car he has.”
“Which car?”
“You don’t know what kind of car your friend drives?” Kravitz asked. He took a pull off his Camel. “The silver Lexus.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Lacey said, rocking from side to side on her feet. “He wasn’t parked on your grass, was he?”