Chapter 6
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His form tossed and turned in the bed, so restless that he should've woken himself up. But, he continued to thrash about, mumbling, sweating, reaching out. Finally, he woke himself with his shout.
"SARAH!" he shouted, sitting up in bed. He looked around the darkened room, sweat pouring down from his temples and down his back and chest. His t-shirt clung to him and he took it off. He got up and walked across the room, opening the window on his way to the bathroom. The cool breeze coming through the window made goose bumps raise on his skin, and he shivered as he reached for the light switch inside the bathroom doorway.
His hand paused at the switch as he noticed his reflection in the mirror, illuminated in the moonlight. After a moment, he flipped the switch and the room was illuminated in the yellow/white light. He stepped closer to the mirror and looked carefully at his face as he grabbed the towel to wipe away the streaks of sweat. Only he saw the faint scars on his face, the final result of several reconstructive procedures to put his face back together. The surgeon had done an excellent job. He should have for the amount of money he charged. Not that he paid for any of it. The bills for his medical care and reconstruction were footed by the City of New York. He looked at the hard expression in the mirror - the dark green of his eyes the only recognizable feature of his face left.
If only the doctors could have done more for her - his precious Sarah. She was only eight years old - so young - too young to be snatched away from him like that. And then, he remembered seeing his other daughter and his wife, Amelia, lying in the caskets next to Sarah. Over the next few years, he'd been unable to pull himself from his despair. Oh, he'd tried various psychiatrists and therapies, but nothing seemed to help him. Over time, he'd stopped talking and working - living off the settlement from the City. Now, he just walked around the City - a shell of his former self.
He took the glass and filled it with cold water from the tap. After drinking it, he took one last look in the mirror and turned off the light. He walked over to the window and looked out at the quiet street below. No one was out this late. He turned and walked back to his bed, climbing in and closing his eyes. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep again, but he just laid there, eyes closed, memories of his wife and daughters playing at the park in the sunshine running through his brain.
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Trisha felt him moving alongside her. She opened her eyes and looked over at him. She saw the light sweat on his forehead, the frown on his face. He was very restless and she wondered whether she should wake him up or let him go. She watched him for a moment and he quieted, the frown disappearing.
She snuggled closer and fell back to sleep.
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*
The sun shone through the bedroom window and he felt the warmth on his face. He opened his eyes and saw her next to him, sleeping peacefully, and he watched her.
"If you keep staring at me, I'm going to get a complex," she mumbled with a smile.
He smiled also and she lifted her head and leaned over to lightly kiss him.
"G'morning," he said with a smile as he sat up and swung his legs around, putting his feet on the floor.
"Good morning to you too," she answered, sitting up as well. "Sleep well?"
"Yeah, thanks," he said, pulling on his sweats and sitting back down. She reached over and pulled the waistband, releasing it and delighting in the snapping sound it made as it sprung back against his waist. He jumped.
"Ouch!" he said, jumping up and smiling. "What was that for?"
"That? Oh that was just a love tap," she told him, standing up and putting on her robe. She felt his eyes watching her as she wrapped the robe around herself and tied it. She saw him in the mirror crawling across the bed on his knees toward her. In a moment his hands were moving her reddish/blonde hair to the side and he was kissing her neck. She heard the change in his breathing as he kissed her and her breath quickened as well.
"I mean it. Thanks for letting me just crash here last night. I needed it," Bosco mumbled against her neck.
"No problem. Everyone needs to veg-out sometimes," she said, turning toward him. "Everything okay? You were..., restless last night," she said and he saw some concern in her face.
He kissed her and she kissed him back and he tried to decide if he should tell her or not. "Yeah. Just some stuff at work. Get dressed and I'll buy you some breakfast," he told her, standing up and grabbing his t-shirt.
"Maybe I want breakfast in bed," she said in a low, sultry voice. He turned and looked as she sat back down on the bed.
"Mmmmm, room service, eh?" he said, dropping his t-shirt and moving toward her.
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*
Paul Richards got out of bed and moved toward the kitchen. The automatic coffeemaker had his coffee all ready for him. He poured a cup and walked to the front door and opened it, retrieving the paper from the front step.
He sat down on the couch and opened to the front page. There he noticed the article about yesterday's car bomb. He read about the injured officer and learned that he would recover fully from his injuries. He was relieved. He didn't want an innocent person to suffer for what Officer Boscorelli had done.
He let the paper fall to his lap as he took a sip of his coffee and looked out the window at the bright, sunny day. "Did you sleep well last night, Maurice Boscorelli? Or did you lie awake wondering who left you that note and hurt your friend?" he asked out loud, a smile playing on his lips.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
His form tossed and turned in the bed, so restless that he should've woken himself up. But, he continued to thrash about, mumbling, sweating, reaching out. Finally, he woke himself with his shout.
"SARAH!" he shouted, sitting up in bed. He looked around the darkened room, sweat pouring down from his temples and down his back and chest. His t-shirt clung to him and he took it off. He got up and walked across the room, opening the window on his way to the bathroom. The cool breeze coming through the window made goose bumps raise on his skin, and he shivered as he reached for the light switch inside the bathroom doorway.
His hand paused at the switch as he noticed his reflection in the mirror, illuminated in the moonlight. After a moment, he flipped the switch and the room was illuminated in the yellow/white light. He stepped closer to the mirror and looked carefully at his face as he grabbed the towel to wipe away the streaks of sweat. Only he saw the faint scars on his face, the final result of several reconstructive procedures to put his face back together. The surgeon had done an excellent job. He should have for the amount of money he charged. Not that he paid for any of it. The bills for his medical care and reconstruction were footed by the City of New York. He looked at the hard expression in the mirror - the dark green of his eyes the only recognizable feature of his face left.
If only the doctors could have done more for her - his precious Sarah. She was only eight years old - so young - too young to be snatched away from him like that. And then, he remembered seeing his other daughter and his wife, Amelia, lying in the caskets next to Sarah. Over the next few years, he'd been unable to pull himself from his despair. Oh, he'd tried various psychiatrists and therapies, but nothing seemed to help him. Over time, he'd stopped talking and working - living off the settlement from the City. Now, he just walked around the City - a shell of his former self.
He took the glass and filled it with cold water from the tap. After drinking it, he took one last look in the mirror and turned off the light. He walked over to the window and looked out at the quiet street below. No one was out this late. He turned and walked back to his bed, climbing in and closing his eyes. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep again, but he just laid there, eyes closed, memories of his wife and daughters playing at the park in the sunshine running through his brain.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**
Trisha felt him moving alongside her. She opened her eyes and looked over at him. She saw the light sweat on his forehead, the frown on his face. He was very restless and she wondered whether she should wake him up or let him go. She watched him for a moment and he quieted, the frown disappearing.
She snuggled closer and fell back to sleep.
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*
The sun shone through the bedroom window and he felt the warmth on his face. He opened his eyes and saw her next to him, sleeping peacefully, and he watched her.
"If you keep staring at me, I'm going to get a complex," she mumbled with a smile.
He smiled also and she lifted her head and leaned over to lightly kiss him.
"G'morning," he said with a smile as he sat up and swung his legs around, putting his feet on the floor.
"Good morning to you too," she answered, sitting up as well. "Sleep well?"
"Yeah, thanks," he said, pulling on his sweats and sitting back down. She reached over and pulled the waistband, releasing it and delighting in the snapping sound it made as it sprung back against his waist. He jumped.
"Ouch!" he said, jumping up and smiling. "What was that for?"
"That? Oh that was just a love tap," she told him, standing up and putting on her robe. She felt his eyes watching her as she wrapped the robe around herself and tied it. She saw him in the mirror crawling across the bed on his knees toward her. In a moment his hands were moving her reddish/blonde hair to the side and he was kissing her neck. She heard the change in his breathing as he kissed her and her breath quickened as well.
"I mean it. Thanks for letting me just crash here last night. I needed it," Bosco mumbled against her neck.
"No problem. Everyone needs to veg-out sometimes," she said, turning toward him. "Everything okay? You were..., restless last night," she said and he saw some concern in her face.
He kissed her and she kissed him back and he tried to decide if he should tell her or not. "Yeah. Just some stuff at work. Get dressed and I'll buy you some breakfast," he told her, standing up and grabbing his t-shirt.
"Maybe I want breakfast in bed," she said in a low, sultry voice. He turned and looked as she sat back down on the bed.
"Mmmmm, room service, eh?" he said, dropping his t-shirt and moving toward her.
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*
Paul Richards got out of bed and moved toward the kitchen. The automatic coffeemaker had his coffee all ready for him. He poured a cup and walked to the front door and opened it, retrieving the paper from the front step.
He sat down on the couch and opened to the front page. There he noticed the article about yesterday's car bomb. He read about the injured officer and learned that he would recover fully from his injuries. He was relieved. He didn't want an innocent person to suffer for what Officer Boscorelli had done.
He let the paper fall to his lap as he took a sip of his coffee and looked out the window at the bright, sunny day. "Did you sleep well last night, Maurice Boscorelli? Or did you lie awake wondering who left you that note and hurt your friend?" he asked out loud, a smile playing on his lips.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~