My eyes flicked to Sam reflected in the mirror, reclining on his side, elbow in the bed, head in his hand, eyes on me and I saw and heard him mutter, “Good.”
Right.
That was done.
Not hard at all.
I could do this, be in a healthy relationship, communicate, move on.
Easy.
I swiped the brush against the edges of my lashes. Three times one side. Three times the other.
Except for gloss makeup done.
I was screwing the wand into the tube and had moved to my cosmetics case to drop it in when Sam said, “Unless you’ve had one, we’ll find a clinic, here or Crete, get you a test.”
I dropped the mascara in my bag and dug for my pink lip gloss that would go great with my dress while asking, “A test?”
“AIDS, other STDs.”
I froze. Then I blinked at my bag. Then, woodenly, I straightened and turned to him.
“What?”
“AIDS and other STDs,” he repeated. “You already had one?”
Numbly, I shook my head.
Sam kept talking. “We’ll get you one. Make sure you’re clean. Then, since you’re on the pill, we can lose the condoms. Shouldn’t have done that just now, you in that dress, outta my hands. Won’t do it again until we’re sure you’re clean.”
I was… clean?
I didn’t know what to say.
But I knew what to feel.
Unclean.
I turned back to my cosmetics bag and blindly dug for my lip gloss. It was blindly because my eyes had filled with tears so I couldn’t see a freaking thing.
“Kia?” Sam called.
“Mm-hmm,” I answered but even my mumble sounded thick.
“Baby?”
I swallowed then answered, “Yeah?”
That sounded thick too.
I blinked to clear my eyes and my fingers had just found the lip gloss when Sam’s hand closed around my other one and he wrapped both our arms around my belly.
Then softly in my ear he said, “Your dead husband stepped out on you. It’s f**ked but it doesn’t negate the fact that I’m f**kin’ you but I’m also f**kin’ whoever he f**ked. I gotta be careful and you gotta make sure you’re safe.”
“Right,” I whispered, cleared my throat because my voice sounded croaky and then I requested, “Could you, uh… let me go? I need to finish getting ready.”
“Kia –”
“Just lip gloss, jewelry then my shoes and then I really need to get something to eat.”
“Kia –”
My hand holding the gloss pushed at his arm as my hand held in his tried to twist free even as I leaned away from him and assured, “I’ll be ready in two minutes tops.”
He pulled the gloss out of my hand, tossed it back in the bag then captured mine and he wrapped both arms around me.
I went solid.
His mouth went back to my ear and he deduced, “You hadn’t thought about that.”
I hadn’t.
No.
I already felt unclean enough at the hands of Cooter.
The thought of that, the thought that that was what was in Sam’s mind every time he made love to me, enough to remember to protect himself from me, made me feel filthy.
Of course, he was only being smart.
That didn’t make me feel any less contaminated.
I didn’t reply.
I listened and felt as Sam drew in a deep breath, his chest expanding against my back then I listened to his long sigh.
Then he said, “I f**ked up.”
Yes. He did.
He could have handled that subject with a lot more care.
He didn’t.
Whatever.
Onward.
“Really, let me just –”
He let my hands go, turned me to face him then his arms closed around me tight.
I lifted my hands to his biceps, put on pressure and I tipped my head back to look at him.
“Sam, really, it’s lunchtime. We slept through breakfast. I’m hungry.”
“I should have felt you out, been more aware.”
Yes. He should have.
He didn’t.
Onward!
“It’s okay. Now –”
“It isn’t.”
I snapped my mouth shut and glared up at him.
His eyes moved over my face and he whispered, “I’m sorry, baby.”
I nodded. “Like I said, it’s okay. Now, really, I’ve had some coffee in the room but I have to have some food.”
He stared at me.
Then he noted, “You’re pissed.”
I wasn’t.
I was unclean.
“No, I’m not.”
“You’ve got a right to be pissed, honey.”
“Do I have to be hungry while I’m pissed?” I asked, his eyes studied my face again then he slowly shook his head. “Good, then can I put on lip gloss and shoes so I can go get something to eat?”
“Yeah,” he answered but didn’t let me go.
“Uh… are you gonna let me go so I can do those things?”
His eyes studied my face yet again.
I sought patience.
Then he said quietly, “Yeah.”
Then he let me go.
I retrieved the gloss, walked to the mirror, put it on and, considering that our abbreviated conversation about Luci intimated that I would imminently be shopping with her, and my few times spent with Luci indicated she was a fashionista, as she would be, of the tallest order, I added dangly, spiky earrings, a couple of thick, jingly bracelets and a long, thin-chained necklace with a jingly, spiky pendant at the end. Then I unearthed my bronze sandals, sat on the bed and strapped them on.
Sam had seen them before but… whatever.
He was a man. He didn’t care about shopping; he probably didn’t care about shoes.
Once they were on, I got up, went to my purse, hooked the strap on my shoulder and looked to him.
He was standing where I left him except now his arms were crossed on his chest, his legs were planted slightly apart and he looked like a gladiator who was in the ring, they just let in the lion, it was weak, sickly thus easily defeated and he was disappointed with the challenge.
“Aren’t you hungry?” I asked.
He held my eyes a moment then answered, “Yeah.”
“Then let’s go.”
He held my eyes another moment.
Then he jerked up his chin, uncrossed his arms and swung one hand to the door.
Then we went.
* * * * *
I flipped my phone shut, slid it in my purse and then picked up my piece of bread, muttering, “Celeste and Thomas are good to have dinner with us tonight. Thanks for that.”
Then I took a big bite of bread, trained my eyes on the view of the lake and chewed.