Page 34 of Fence

“I don’t think I want you to be trustworthy,” I giggled, “but really, I just need to be close to you.”

“I know what you mean.”

Another kiss—shorter, but no less sweet—and I got up from the couch on shaky legs. I was still wearing last night’s dress, still in last night’s makeup and everything.

The rest of the world had sort of fallen away once he’d started talking. I went straight to the bathroom and slathered cold cream on my face without closing the door first.

“Women still use cold cream?” he asked.

I could tell by the sound of the creaking bedsprings that he’d sat down. My skin tingled at the thought of sharing my bed with him.

“I do,” I chuckled. “My grandmother did.”

Whatever he was about to say in reply vanished. “Oh, shit!”

“What?” I lifted my face from the sink and turned to him, halfway through rinsing off.

“I forgot, I turned off my phone in the restaurant. There are twelve missed calls.” I hurried up and dried my face while he listened to his voicemail. When I lowered the towel, and saw the panic in his eyes, my stomach dropped.

“What is it?” I breathed.

He looked me up and down. “Get changed into something comfortable and pack a bag.”

“What?”

“Do it. Pack everything that matters to you. And hurry.”

He went back to the living room, dialing as he did, and his tight whispers rang in my ears as I did what I was told, though I wished I knew why I was doing it.

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