1993
Costa Rica
There was a slight sting to the water as the heat slowly withered away. The sudden coldness on her skin after the steady rhythm of the gentle warmth felt like her soul was slowly trying to be pulled out of her body. Ellie reached for the shower tap and turned it a little to the right, shivering in the chill before the temperature gently rose a little.
She looked down at the tiled surface below her; the water running clear and unsoiled now. At one point she felt she would never be clean; dirt and grime had caked her body and enclosed it in the lingering stench. She reached out and turned the nozzle all the way, tightening it as the final few drops of water escaped. Ellie griped the ceramic surface as she stepped out on to the marbled floor, the water flocking south from her skin, making the surface slippery already. The towels hanging on the rail were a pristine white, positioned perfectly parallel to the rail. She wrenched one harshly off the bar and threw it on the floor, mopping up the puddles with her foot. The other she took and roughly rubbed at her head, getting most of the moisture off, leaving a string of darkened ringlets behind.
Feeling the air cool again, she used the dampened town to briskly rub down her body, the water droplets being dragged into the soft material. Ellie grabbed at the hotel robe hanging on the back of the door, encasing her body in it, feeling the softness there. As she headed to the door, she couldn't help but look at the reflection in the mirror. The steam had fogged up the glass, so she could barely make out her silhouette. It looked trapped behind fog, an imperfect image of her, but her all the same.
She turned the door handle, feeling the wrinkles on the pads of her fingers struggle to grip. The cosy warmth of the hotel bedroom hit her with a force. It felt urban and unnatural in its comfort. They may have been off the island, but they certainly weren't home. Her footfalls fell silent against the cushioned carpet. There were no lights on, but the room was engulfed with brightness from the outside window. The harsh neon signs and the glow of the lamps dominated the view. The moonlight struggled to make itself seen, but still persevered. The room was still, stopped in time, but she immediately sensed his presence by the window. He was never the height of quick movement, but the whirring of his mind always seemed to be visible to her.
He still didn't stir as she walked towards the window, but she knew he had heard her approaching. He was sloped to the side, with his head resting gently on his hand as he was leaning against the side of the cosmopolitan armchair, looking out of place, like a dove in a cage. Ellie crossed gently to the chair opposite him and curled her legs under herself as she sat down. He still didn't stir.
She noticed the small table between them was overtaken by large, silver cloches, painfully reflecting the light so they were almost too harsh to look at. They weren't there when she had gone to take a shower.
"What's this?" she asked, cracking the silence and nodding towards the table.
Alan only stirred slightly at the sound of her voice, slightly shrugging his shoulder. "They sent it up to us. I don't know who's paying for it," he replied.
"Well, as long as it's free…" Ellie said, feeling her stomach settle slightly with just the timbre of his voice. She lifted the first cloche to reveal a sandwich with a side of fries, the salty scent filling her nose and making her stomach growl in complaint at the delay.
"I can't even remember the last time I ate," Alan said, this time sitting up and leaning towards the table. Ellie gave him a gentle smile and reached towards the cloche nearest to her. She pulled it off and the air around her became instantly colder. Sitting in front of her were two perfectly quinelled scoops of ice cream.
The memory of the last time she ate now came flooding back. Her senses felt heightened by the appearance of the dessert in front of her. The shine and the drops of melted cream seemed to pool around the plate and the sweet vanilla smell was too saccharine on the back of her pallet. It was teamed with the coldness that polluted the air, hitting her sinuses like an ice pick, making the sweetness almost bitter. A metallic taste filled her mouth, swirling with the syrupiness, the dripping of the cream reminding her of blood. She felt like she was swimming in it, drowning in it, as the taste of it came back.
It spread through her whole body, this cold bitter feeling, she could hear the cream drip now, taste the redness of the metal blood, seeing it swimming over her eyes. The robe became itchy towards her skin, like it was squeezing gore onto her body through its soft bristles. The room around her was over stimulating her senses, the light becoming brighter and flickering, the comfort of the room deferring to the coldness, feeling like an abattoir filled with rotting flesh and dismembered limbs.
Ellie felt her stomach churn as scents that she wanted to leave behind came flooding back and her eyes were seeing things she wished she had left behind. She felt acid stalk up her throat. There was the sound of crashing metal against wood and she suddenly realised she was halfway across the room. She felt like she was in a nightmare, not fully in control of her body and only aware of moments.
When her knees hit cold, slippery marble she realised she was back in the bathroom. She heard a sound of pain and realised that it was her own throat retching into the ceramic toilet bowl. There was barely anything coming up, her stomach being empty already. The waves of her stomach contracting seemed to go on forever, punching a beat into her ribs. When they paused briefly, she noticed a pressure moving up and down her back, making her suddenly flinch, unsure of where she was or what could be moving.
The movement stopped when she flinched, perceiving her unease. Then gentle fingertips stroked away the damp hair that had plastered to her forehead. They seemed familiar and calming and seemed to tame all the nerves in her body which had been vigorously shaking her skin. Ellie hadn't even heard him come into the bathroom. She felt her breathing start to regulate slightly, but the taste in her mouth and the clawing at her skin was still there. She had to get it away from her.
Standing on shaky legs she stumbled her way back to the shower, quickly removing the stifling robe as she went. She stepped inside, turning the nozzle, not waiting or caring for the water to be warm. She looked back at the bathroom. Alan was now sitting with his back to the closed door, his arms resting on his raised knees. His head was buried between his arms, so Ellie couldn't see his face. She knew he was crying. She couldn't see or hear it and he probably wouldn't let her, but she could tell.
Ellie hadn't drawn the shower curtain and the water was now pooling onto the floor. She still didn't close it, not wanting to be separated from him. She just put her head back on the cold tile, letting the water run down her body, trying not to think about how it reminded her of blood splattering and spilling from those around her.
A loud bang woke Ellie up. Someone in a room on the same floor must have let the door spring back too quickly, creating a noise in the calm. She sat up, with a start, her palms feeling clammy and a pounding quickening in her ears. She jumped a little again as she felt a finger trace along her lower torso, along the lace of her underwear and up her naked back to where the bandage on her shoulder was. She sat still for a minute and let him trace the faded freckles on her back, like stars in a constellation. She looked over at him and saw him gazing out the window. The artificial lighting had now been dimmed, the clawing and stabbing brightness no longer trying to wrestle the moon for the limelight. Alan was looking up at the clear sky, projecting the stars onto her back like she was his whole universe.
He turned to look at her. The moonlight glowing on his face made him seem younger. His eyes were fixed on her. Blue eyes which pierced the world around him. That which could look so cold when glaring at a stranger or a foe, now filled with the calmness of the sea. A clarity that she realised was only directed at her.
Ellie gently reached out and ran two fingers along his jaw line, the slight stubble causing friction along the trail. She stopped as she got to his dusky, pink lips, chapped ever so slightly. She rested the pad of her finger there lightly, causing the left side of his lips to quirk a little into a slight smirk before he gave a quick peck onto her fingernail. It was a brief moment of fantasy, taking her out of reality and back into what their life was. She realised he been virtually running on autopilot since they arrived at the hotel, distant and withdrawn from everything around him. Just his smile gave her hope.
Alan slowly rolled towards her, putting his cheek against her shoulder. Gently, he pressed kisses along her chest and to her collar bone. The solid weight and shape of his body resting and moving on to her gave a feeling of comfort and safety. Her body felt like her own again. Her skin tingled with longing, negating those sensations which she tried to scrub away earlier. She started to slowly tickle the back of his calf with her toes, an encouragement that seemed to urge him on and take away any uncertainty he may have had. His hand started provocatively brushing down her side, gripping her curves securely and invitingly. Ellie ran her hand up his arm, feeling the hair and skin prickle at the movement. Briefly cupping his cheek, she moved her fingers under his jaw. She raised his chin up so they were almost nose to nose; she needed to see his eyes. Being in his vision was like an anchor to her. Without it, she felt like she was just drifting away.