Page 39 of Rainshadow

Flora stared at her, breathing through her teeth.

“Liar,” she whispered. “You’re desperate.”

Sylvia just laughed again. “Help me to the shower. Come on, we’re sisters now, in a way.”

Flora did help her to the shower, looping an arm under her armpits as they sat side by side on the bed and hoisting her up. Sylvia was frail, she could feel it, the other woman’s slender body beneath her hanging bedclothes. She brought her into the bathroom, turned on the hot water in the marble shower, and made sure there was a clean towel.

“I’ve got it from here,” Sylvia said. “Once I warm up, I can move again.”

Flora watched Sylvia for a moment, thinking she might fall.

She didn’t want her to, of course, even if it meant she and Ethan would be alone together. Still, she watched Sylvia, watched her struggling to take off the sweater she’d worn to bed, watched her lower herself onto the toilet lid so she could take off her pajama pants.

“Please stop looking at me,” Sylvia said. “Just go. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Flora said, her voice low.

“No, I’m not really. There are only two ways out for me, and I’m not ready to take either of them yet.”

Flora snorted, rolled her eyes. Sylvia was a diva, a dramatic ingenue in her own tragedy. Flora loathed her, but she didn’t watch her any longer, as much as she might be, just a little bit, enjoying the woman’s humiliation.

She left Sylvia to shower and went downstairs, where Ethan was sitting at the dining room table, a very old-looking book open in front of him.

“Good evening, beautiful,” he said, closing his book. “You look… magnificent.”

Flora smiled at him. “Thank you. I love these clothes.”

“They flatter you. We can go shop for more if you’d like. I can book a flight to Seattle. Or London. Or…”

“Oh,” Flora said, overwhelmed at the suggestion. “Thank you, but I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

“You’d figure it out.”

They both smiled.

“Are you hungry?” he asked her. “I don’t think the cook is coming tonight. Maybe you should start scheduling him. Sylvia doesn’t seem that interested.”

“She’s not doing well.”

Ethan nodded, but didn’t seem especially concerned or surprised. “I wonder how long she’ll keep doing this to herself.”

Flora nodded, as if agreeing that it was such a shame that Sylvia was so self-destructive.

“What is she addicted to?”

“Addicted?” he asked, and for a moment seemed confused. “Oh, well, wine, pain medication, whatever she can get her hands on.”

“And why doesn’t she have a doctor?”

“She does have a doctor,” Ethan said. “They don’t come anymore, they just prescribe. She’s just managing pain now. She stopped trying to get better.”

“She’s given up.”

He nodded, shrugged. They both sighed, as if Sylvia was just an unfortunate tragedy about which nothing could be done.

“Why don’t you come out during the day?”

Ethan looked at her, smiled. “Because I’m a vampire.”

---