bet this hasn’t been opened for years,” he says, straining with the handle.
With a grunt, he finally gets it open, but when he emerges from the dark hole in the wall, his face is black and covered in ash. Laughter pushes against my lips. When he opens his eyes, all I can see are the whites. I can’t hold it in any longer. I fall to the floor, laughing.
“Oh, you think this is funny?” He walks toward me, and I try to compose myself while getting up.
“Very. So I’m assuming you got it open?”
“I did, I did. Come here, give me a kiss.” He comes at me and I backpedal.
“No, you’re all . . . gross. I don’t want to get that on me.” I run away and the chase begins.
Running around the table, I use it as a barrier between us. Grabbing me from behind, he nuzzles his face in my hair and rubs his sooty hands on my face.
“Ugh! Get off.” My screams are combined with laughter.
“You know they say this is good for your skin, gets it all smooth.”
“You must be thinking of something else, or you’re just making that crap up.” I rub my cheeks and withdraw an ashy hand. “God, look at me now, I’m going to have to shower.”
“I can help you with that.” His playful tone becomes instantly seductive, and it’s hard not to jump on that offer.
“I say you get the fire started while I clean up, and I’ll be right back.” I run off to the bathroom.
I clean up with a washcloth, and look in the mirror to make sure I got it all off my face. When I see my reflection staring back at me, I slowly take off this stupid wig that has become an everyday habit to put on. Forgetting about my old hair most of the time, I let it down, noticing how much my hair has grown in the last few months.
Did I just avoid Rig’s offer to help me shower? I can’t believe I did that, but I don’t want it to all be about sex. I like it, but I like him as a person more. I can feel in my bones that he’s going to leave. I hope I get to know him more deep down and can convince him to stay . . . if that’s even possible.
Someone else needs him, maybe more than me, but my heart needs him, too. He’s the reason it beats most days, and I don’t want to feel another loss so soon after I felt it come to life again.
A soft knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts.
“You ok in there, Parker?” Rig asks.
“Almost done, I’ll be out in a second.”
“Ok. The fire is started, and it’s pretty big.” His footfalls echo down the hallway.
I tug the wig over my real hair as if someone is going to break into this house and see me, shielding a part of me that Rig will never know. Although it’s just hair and it doesn’t define me, it’s a part of who I really am. It’s another thing I hide, while he hides the hurt and pain he feels inside. Insistent on getting these truths out of him one day, I plaster on a smile, half fake, half real, and head back out to him.
When I turn the corner from the hall, I pause, taking in Rig as he sits on the floor in front of the fireplace, trying to get a better sense of the man inside.
All I do know is when this holiday passes, I’m going to get him to talk, get him to open up and tell me things he hasn’t yet. I’m going to push him the way he has pushed me to become this new person. Things will never be how they are supposed to truly be if he can’t be himself around me.
“Ok, now where were we?” I sit next to him on the floor.
“Are you warm enough? I can get the blanket?” He motions to the yellow and white afghan draped over the couch.
“I’m ok, that’s half the reason I didn’t want to shower. I would’ve been an ice cube coming out of there. I can’t get used to this cold weather—it’s nothing like California. I miss the sun.” I can’t believe I just said that, because I was the biggest complainer when it came summer there.
“Not to worry, it gets pretty warm here in the summer. By spring time,