The House Guest - Mark Edwards Page 0,15
ran outside, laughing as she went, and I jumped up – my head whirled; maybe I was even drunker than I thought – and watched through the kitchen window as she danced in the rain, spinning in a slow circle, face raised to the sky, barefoot on the grass.
‘It feels so good!’ Ruth called, and Eden hesitated for a moment before running outside to join her. They held each other’s hands and jumped up and down like excited children.
More thunder boomed, and lightning flashed overhead, revealing, just for a moment, a flotilla of black clouds. My booze-addled brain was thrown into that scene in The Immaculate. The apocalypse. The end of the world. I blinked and rubbed my eyes and lightning flashed again, so close I thought I could smell it: a singed electric scent. The sky had turned the colour of dried blood and the trees in the garden swayed and seemed to be calling to me. I stared at the ground and imagined worms wriggling in the soil; watched as fat raindrops bounced in slow motion off the surface of the swing, which moved back and forth as if an invisible child were playing there.
Jesus, this tequila was strong.
Then Ruth and Eden were running back inside, dripping wet, just like the first time I’d seen Eden. They grabbed towels from the bathroom.
‘I feel so much better,’ said Ruth, casting the towel aside and going back into the living room. She sat back on the sofa, still wet and not seeming to care. Eden said something about getting changed and ran up the stairs.
Ruth reached for the bottle of tequila. One was already empty. I didn’t feel better at all, but I saw my own arm pick up a shot glass, waiting for Ruth to pour.
We both knocked back a shot, not bothering with the salt or lime. I banged my glass down, refilled it and did it again. Ruth did the same. I closed my eyes and felt the chill creep through my bones. When I opened them again the room seemed both darker and lighter, objects glinting and shining in the shadows. Ruth shone too, like her skin was luminescent.
Oh God, she was beautiful. I wanted to kiss her. She looked like she wanted to kiss me too. But then Eden came back down wearing a dry shirt and pair of shorts. She flopped on to the sofa and smiled at me, showing off her perfect white teeth. Thunder sounded again, but from further away.
‘Hey, Adam, are you still with us?’
I blinked at Eden, who was clicking her fingers in front of my face. I must have spaced out for a second. Or was it a minute? Nothing seemed to make much sense anymore. I had a jagged pain in my stomach and I clutched it, leaning forward, telling myself not to be sick. Ruth was holding her hand in front of her face and studying it like she’d never seen it before. Eden got up and left the room and I don’t know how much time passed before she came back, but when she sat back down her expression was serious. Sad.
‘I’ve got to tell you guys how grateful I am,’ she said. ‘For letting me stay here. A complete stranger. I could have been anyone.’
‘You’re a friend of Jack and Mona’s,’ I said, as the pain in my belly abated a little.
‘Yeah,’ added Ruth, in what sounded like a slowed-down version of her regular voice. ‘Any friend of theirs is a friend of ours.’
Eden’s eyes were damp. ‘Thank you. But you both . . . You showed trust. And kindness. I can’t tell you what that means after . . . after everything that’s happened to me.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
Eden’s gaze was fixed on a point on the floor by my feet. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
I exchanged a quick glance with Ruth. She appeared as woozy as I felt. ‘Come on, you can tell us,’ I said to Eden.
‘No, I can’t. Please, leave it.’
‘We love you,’ said Ruth, leaning over to give Eden a hug.
‘Hey, you’re getting me wet!’
All I could hear, in the moment that followed, was the patter of rain against glass. The storm had eased but the noise of that rain was sharp and clear, and the room was bathed in a sickly, mustardy light. My mouth felt like a hole where a spider might go to die.
I was never going to drink tequila again.
We stood up, all three of us,