The leaky kitchen faucet seemed to mark off segments of time like a clock, announcing the passing of a moment, then another, then another.
Outside the window intermittent traffic flowed, horns honked, sirens wailed--but Eames did not stir or seem to take notice. She lay in the bed, hands behind her head, staring up through the dim light at the cracks in the ceiling plaster, shaped like strange, inter- connecting W's.
Warped, she thought. Wasted. Wiped.
She shifted her weight on the mattress a little and felt warm, sticky fluid between her legs. She closed her eyes against this tangible proof of an act for which she felt shame.
It had happened. It wasn't a dream.
She cast her mind back several hours to the exact moment of vulnerability--after the Dewar's, after the call--her sister's call, every Friday night like clock work-- listing the weekly accomplishments of the baby--HER baby--THEIR daughter. She felt the tears slipping between her eyelids, the hollow place in her chest whenever she thought about her daughter--a child she would never raise, a child who would only know her as "aunt." This time, this particular weekend, it had proved too much to endure. She'd called him.
When she'd met him at the door, she wouldn't let him speak. She'd just held on, clung to him, grasping at him frantically, like a drowning swimmer going down for the third time. He held her, kissed her, folded himself around her like a blanket. He never asked her what was wrong--he was just there.
When they'd ended up in bed he seemed surprised--a slight hesitation on his part brought a fierce response from her. She was using him, she knew. but it was what she needed now--right now--and at that moment she didn't care.
She turned to look at him beside her, and with trembling fingers traced the stubble on his jaw. Did she love Bobby Goren? Yes. Was she in love with him? No. This man had been her partner, her friend, and now her lover. And yet she had betrayed him. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
Bobby stirred, moaned, and opened his eyes. Seeing her, he reached out to stroke her hair. "Alex," he smiled, and her heart turned to stone.
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Outside the window intermittent traffic flowed, horns honked, sirens wailed--but Eames did not stir or seem to take notice. She lay in the bed, hands behind her head, staring up through the dim light at the cracks in the ceiling plaster, shaped like strange, inter- connecting W's.
Warped, she thought. Wasted. Wiped.
She shifted her weight on the mattress a little and felt warm, sticky fluid between her legs. She closed her eyes against this tangible proof of an act for which she felt shame.
It had happened. It wasn't a dream.
She cast her mind back several hours to the exact moment of vulnerability--after the Dewar's, after the call--her sister's call, every Friday night like clock work-- listing the weekly accomplishments of the baby--HER baby--THEIR daughter. She felt the tears slipping between her eyelids, the hollow place in her chest whenever she thought about her daughter--a child she would never raise, a child who would only know her as "aunt." This time, this particular weekend, it had proved too much to endure. She'd called him.
When she'd met him at the door, she wouldn't let him speak. She'd just held on, clung to him, grasping at him frantically, like a drowning swimmer going down for the third time. He held her, kissed her, folded himself around her like a blanket. He never asked her what was wrong--he was just there.
When they'd ended up in bed he seemed surprised--a slight hesitation on his part brought a fierce response from her. She was using him, she knew. but it was what she needed now--right now--and at that moment she didn't care.
She turned to look at him beside her, and with trembling fingers traced the stubble on his jaw. Did she love Bobby Goren? Yes. Was she in love with him? No. This man had been her partner, her friend, and now her lover. And yet she had betrayed him. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
Bobby stirred, moaned, and opened his eyes. Seeing her, he reached out to stroke her hair. "Alex," he smiled, and her heart turned to stone.
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