* * *
When he returned, she was stretched out on the sofa, one arm across her eyes, the other hand resting on her abdomen. She lowered her arm and smiled wanly at him as he approached on tiptoe. “Find everything?”
“I think so.”
“Did I send enough money?”
“Don’t worry about it. Why aren’t you in bed?”
“Well, as I said, it’s kind of a mess.”
At the end of a short hallway one of the bedroom doors was standing ajar. He set the sack of purchases on the floor beside the sofa. “Here’s your stuff.” Then he started down the hall toward the bedroom.
“Roark, no,” she protested weakly as she sat up.
“Take care of yourself, Mary Catherine. I’ll take care of this.”
He did, but it wasn’t pleasant.
For one thing, it was much more difficult to remain detached than he had imagined it would be. He couldn’t get it out of his mind that the “mess” represented a human life, which had started out exactly as every human life did. For reasons that would never be known, it had decided to give it up, cash in early, let go. It was said that miscarriages were blessings in disguise, that it was the natural way for a uterus to discard an imperfection. Nevertheless, knowing that a life had ended tonight was depressing as hell.
Also she must have been fairly far along, because there was more bloody substance than he’d expected. As efficiently as possible, he stripped the linens, including the mattress pad, and crammed them into a plastic trash bag he found in a kitchen pantry. He sealed it tightly, then carried it out to the Dumpster behind the building.
On his way back through the apartment, he heard the shower running in the bathroom. He found fresh linens in a hall closet and remade the bed. He was finishing up when she came into the bedroom, looking scrubbed and wearing another ensemble of loose T-shirt and baggy boxers.
He swept his arm wide to indicate the bed. “Climb in.” She did, sighing with relief as she lay down. “Everything all right?”
“Sure.”
“Did you take some of the Tylenol?”
“Three. Figured they couldn’t hurt.”
“How about some tea?”
“You’ve done enough.”
“How about some tea?”
She looked up at him. “You’d really make me tea?”
“Do you have a kettle?”
“I don’t think so.”
“A microwave?”
“Of course.”
Five minutes later, he was back with a steaming cup of tea, packets of sweetener, and a spoon. “I didn’t know if you took sugar or not.”
“Two, please.” As he stirred the sweetener into her tea, he glanced over at the TV. The sound was muted, but she was staring into the screen. “I love this movie,” she told him. “I bought the video and must’ve watched it a thousand times. Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant.”
“A winning combo. Careful, it’s hot,” he said, passing her the mug. She made room for him beside her on the bed, and he sat down, leaning back against the wall. “What’s it about?”
“She’s gorgeous and in trouble. He’s handsome and comes to her rescue. She’s scared. He’s suave. They fall in love in the end.”
They watched the video in silence until it played out, then she clicked off the TV and he took the empty cup from her. “Thanks, Roark, that helped. Nobody’s ever made me tea before.”
“My mom always made me tea when I was sick.”
“Was she nice to you?”
“Real nice. I was lucky.”
“Yeah, you were. My old lady kicked me out when I was fifteen.”
“How come?”
“She caught her boyfriend waving his weenie at me.”
“Why didn’t she kick him out?”
She laughed as though that were funny, although Roark hadn’t meant it to be. “You’re a nice guy, Roark.” When he grimaced, she added, “I meant it as a compliment.”
“Well, thanks. Must say, though, I’d rather be thought of as dashing and dangerous.”
Her smile faded. Her eyes lost their sparkle and seemed to look inward into something that caused her unhappiness. “No, that’s Todd.”
Roark didn’t how to respond to that and reasoned that it was best to say nothing. He slapped his thighs and moved to get up. “Well, I should be—”
“Wait, Roark. You’ve been so sweet. I mean, really fuckin’ great. I hate women who’re clingy and needy, but I don’t want to be alone tonight. Would you stay? Just until I fall asleep?”
“Okay. Sure.”
“Lie down.”
Awkwardly, Roark stretched out beside her on the bed. She snuggled against him and rested her head on his shoulder. He placed an arm around her. “Maybe tomorrow you should call a doctor,” he suggested.
“Yeah. He’ll likely want to do a D and C. Yuk.”
Roark’s thought exactly. He had a vague idea of what was involved in the procedure, and he preferred keeping the idea vague. “You weren’t on the pill?”
“No. They make me fat,” she explained. “And he forgot to bring condoms. At least he told me he forgot them. Guess I was stupid not to insist.”
“Damn straight. Pregnancy’s not the worst that can happen.”
“I know, but he’s the type who’d be careful about disease and stuff.”
“So this guy wasn’t random? I mean, he’s somebody you know well?”
“Roark, don’t ask, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Let’s talk about something else.”
But they didn’t talk. Not for a while. They didn’t even move, except for his fingers sifting through strands of her hair, which was fanned out over the pillow, drying from her shower.
“My name’s not really Mary Catherine,” she confessed softly.
“No?”
“It’s Sheila.”
“That’s pretty.”
“I just use Mary Catherine for the nun bit.”
“I figured.”
“I thought you might. You’re smart. Me, I quit school when I left home, middle of tenth grade. I’m an idiot.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I know so. Anyway, when the customers get tired of the nun act, I’ll work up something else, and I’ll probably change my name to fit the new act. I’m playing with an idea. What to hear it?”
“Love to.”
“I thought I could maybe be a mermaid? You know, I’d have this tail that was all pearly and shimmery. I’d wear a long, flowing wig that came down to my ass. Maybe even to my knees.”
“You’d be a knockout. You could call yourself Lorelei.”
“Lorelei?”
“Like the siren. In mythology.” She stared back at him with misapprehension. “She had a beautiful singing voice,” he explained. “She used it to lure sailors into the rocks where they would shipwreck.”
“No shit? I gotta remember that.”
“I can write it down for you so you won’t forget.”
She propped herself up on her elbow and regarded him with patent admiration. “See? You’re so fuckin’ smart.”
He laughed, and she laughed, and then they looked at one another seriously for a long moment, and then she said, “You can play with them if you want to.”
Immediately his eyes dropped to her chest. She raised the hem of her T-shirt up over her breasts. The objects of his affection and fantasies, what he had admired from afar, were inches from his eyes, his fingertips, his lips. She was giving them to him. A gift.
But when he extended his hand, it was to lower her T-shirt back into place.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. “I can’t screw tonight, but I could blow you.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“You think I’d be doing it just for you? Think again.” She slid her hand down to his crotch and took his penis in her hand. “I’ve been wondering what you packed. Starlight’s a lying bitch, but I can tell she was telling the truth about you.” She squeezed him, and he caught his breath. Blood rushed to the pressure point made by each of her fingers.
But he moved her hand away from him. “I’d be taking advantage of the situation.”
“So?”
“I wouldn’t feel right about it, Sheila.”
“Jesus, most guys would kill for an offer like this. Are you for real?”
“I’m real, all right. I’ll be cursing myself in the morning.”
“Well, you can jerk off in the shower while you watch us sunbathe.” She giggled at his astonishment. “We’re not that ignorant, Roark. Why else would y’all take so many showers? And at the same time we’re sunbathing?”
She smiled and lay back down, snuggling against him again. “Truth is, I couldn’t have given you my best tonight. I really do feel like shit, you know?”
“Go to sleep, Sheila. When you wake up, this’ll seem like a bad dream.”
“You’re sweet.”
“So are you.”
He stroked her back, and caressed her hair, and continued to hold her even after she had fallen asleep. When he returned to his apartment the following morning, Todd was already up and pecking away at his keyboard. “Where’ve you been?”
“Walking on the beach.”
Todd squinted at him suspiciously.
“Alone.”
“Who is she?”
“Alone,” Roark repeated testily.
“Huh.” Todd went back to his typing, saying only one thing more. “Coffee’s made, but I used the last of the milk.”