Page 51 of Finding London

Sarah loves baths. Up until we were able to afford this room, they had been few and far between. Even growing up in different homes, she hadn’t been given the luxury of baths too often.

The tub in this room wasn’t the most appealing when we first got here. But I went out and got some Comet and bleach, and I scrubbed the tub and the surrounding walls until they were shiny. Now, Sarah can take a bath whenever she wants.

I lead her to the bathroom, start the water, and pour in the lavender bath bubbles that I picked up for her at the Dollar Store. She loves the smell of lavender, even the chemical-imposter variety.

When the tub is full of water and bubbles, I turn to leave, but she grabs my arm.

“Please don’t leave. Get in with me.” When I don’t answer, she gives me a pleading, “Please.”

Sarah entered the bathroom in only her panties. So, after I strip down to my boxers, we both get in the water. I lean against the back of the tub, and she rests between my legs, her back to my front.

We sit in silence for a few minutes before I ask gently, “Do you want to talk about it?”

She shakes her head. She never wants to talk about it. I wish she would. I think it would help.

“Are you sure? You can tell me anything. I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

She nods, her long hair moving across my chest. “I know. Thank you.”

I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to make her let me help her.

“We could splurge on a movie?” I suggest, willing to do anything to make her feel better, to take her mind off of all the horrors in her head.

We actually go see a movie a couple of times a month, but we usually go to a matinee because they’re cheaper, and only one of us pays. The one who pays sneaks the other one in through a back Exit door in the theater that isn’t monitored by cameras. Sometimes, we get lucky and spot a large group of friends walking in. We stick close to them, and when the attendant takes the pile of tickets, they assume everyone is accounted for.

For being homeless, we have a pretty good life. Well, I guess some things could be better.

I rest my head against the top of Sarah’s, and she leans back into me. My arms wrap around her waist, and I pull her in tight, letting her know that I’m here, that I love her.

Finally, she answers, “No, not tonight. I’m not really in the mood.”

“Okay.” I kiss the top of her head.

“Loïc, promise me that you’ll never leave me.” Her voice comes out in a broken sob, and I know she’s crying.

“You know I could never, would never.”

“Promise.”

“I promise, Sarah. I love you more than anything. I would never leave you. Nothing can tear us apart.”

“Nothing can tear us apart,” she repeats softly.

“Nothing.”

“I love you, Loïc. I’m sorry about earlier. Can you forgive me?”

“You don’t have to apologize, and you’re always forgiven because I love you. Nothing you could ever do would change that.”

She turns to the side now, her cheek resting against my chest. “You saved my life,” she says softly. “No matter what happens, I need you to know that you saved my life, and I’m so thankful for you. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, Sarah. I don’t know how, but I promise you that we’ll get through this. It won’t always hurt this much, okay?” I need her to believe my words even though I’m having a hard time believing them myself.

“Okay,” she whispers.

Sarah falls asleep against my chest, and I hold her until the water goes cold. I wake her enough to dry her off, get her dressed in something comfortable, and get her into bed.

I fall asleep beside her, grateful that another storm has passed—at least for now. Tomorrow, I’m going to find a job that we can both do. I’m never leaving her alone again.

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