The Room

The room was quiet.

Rosa Sharon kept her eyes closed. She could still see the red water.

She shivered and the mattress shook with her.

Joseph’s arm tightened around her.

-Cold? he asked.

-No, she said.

-You’re shaking.

-I feel dirty.

She opened her eyes. The ceiling was stained with water damage.

-I scrubbed my hands, she said. But I can still smell it. The rot.

-It’s in your head, Joseph said.

-It’s on my skin. It’s in my hair.

She sat up suddenly. The stacks of money tipped over, sliding against her thigh.

-I shouldn't be here, she said. I should be on a honeymoon. I left Jack standing there. He never hurt anyone.

Joseph sat up. He leaned against the headboard.

-He would want you to be alive, he said.

-I am alive.

-Not if you’d stayed.

-So you saved me? she asked, laughing. You saved me from a boring wedding to take me to a slaughterhouse?

-I didn't know.

-You see things, Joseph. But you don't see the blood?

He looked away.

-I see what I’m shown, he said.

He reached out. He took her hand.

-I’m sorry, he said.

Rosa Sharon looked at him. The stranger. The runaway abettor. She should keep running away.

-I can't sleep, she said.

-You don't have to sleep.

-I need to forget. I need to get the smell out of my nose.

-Let me help, he said.

He pulled her hand. Gently. He guided it to his chest.

She felt his heartbeat.

-I’m here, he said. -That beach house is miles away. Your old life is even further away.

Rosa Sharon moved closer. She crawled over the scattered bills.

She needed to feel something other than guilt.

She straddled his lap.

Joseph looked up at her.

-Rosa, he warned.

-Make me forget, she said.

She leaned down. She pressed her forehead against his.

-Make me feel alive, Joseph. Because right now, I feel like a ghost.

He didn't argue. He put his hands on her waist. He pulled her down.

The money slid around beneath them.