Page 7 of Absolution

Three

Kerry

Cece sleeps until nine. Had I been awake I would have worried and wondered. But I slept like the dead. My first real sleep since he came here. I wonder if he has slept too. I let her down on the floor. Slipping my feet into a pair of thick socks, I tiptoe out into the main room. Cece isn’t as subtle and barges out, her feet pattering against the floorboards.

“Bwekfaa!” she squeals, making me smile and ruffle her silky dark hair. It’s short. I’ve cut it, but now I can’t help thinking she’d be cute in braids.

In the living room the air is stale and used. Outside it’s darker than it was yesterday, and the wind howls.

He lies on his back, completely still under a thick blanket. He’s taller than the couch is long, and his legs are curled awkwardly. I stiffen and stop for a moment to look at him. His eyes are closed. Does he move at all? But when we walk past him, he lifts his head.

“Is it morning?” His voice is rough and raspy and there’s something in it that sends shivers down my spine.

“Yeah. Nine.”

“I think I need more sleep. Is it okay if I lie here a little longer?”

My mouth falls open. Since when does he ask for anything?“Of course.”

“Are you leaving?” he asks, his voice faint.

I frown. “Are you hallucinating?” I walk to the front door, open it and look out into the maelstrom that is the outside world before I pull it closed again. It feels as if a large hand is trying to keep it open. “No car, still windy… No. I don’t think so.”

“Thank you,” he says. Then his head falls back onto the pillow and he closes his eyes.

Thank you?

Preparing breakfast for us, I make an extra cup of coffee and put a couple of extra pieces of bread in the oven. He can slice them himself, though. I don’t have a single knife left.

He turns his head toward me as I walk up to him.

“Hey. Breakfast.”

His eyes are dark and hollow, his face pale and a little pasty.

“Good for you.”

“I made you some.”

That wakes him up. “You—”

He sits up, swaying. “You made some for me? I must be Alice.”

“What?”

“In Wonderland.”

He’s hung the flannel shirt over his shoulders and I suddenly wonder what his wound looks like. Then I remember his harsh words, how he chased me off. He can go fuck himself!

“Just shut up and eat it.” I spin on my heels and stalk back toward the kitchen. His sudden change in demeanor makes me uncomfortable. I don’t like that he says please, that he asks before he takes. I don’t recognize him, and I don’t like it. I don’t trust it to last. With him everything is an act, and I have to remember that.

“I’ll be back in a minute.” I look at his back as he heaves himself up off the couch and leaves for the bathroom, swaying a little. He looks different. Calmer. Weaker. I frown as a twinge of unexpected worry nips at my heart.

We eat in silence. Christian has fetched the bread knife and everything seems oddly normal. Except ‘normal’ never used to be with him at the breakfast table. I steal a glance at him and blush as he catches my gaze. His cheeks are a little flushed and his forehead is sweaty.

“Did you spike my coffee again?”

I almost choke on my tea. “No.”

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