Blood Loss

37

Ren sat in her bed at The Firelight Inn, propped up by four pillows. She was dressed in lemon-colored flannel pajamas with a pink ribbon trim. Her hair was in a messy bun. She scrolled through her contacts and decided on Matt.

‘Hey,’ she said. ‘I am so pissed off. Gary made me go back to the Inn for rest — for the entire night.’

‘Why? Did you fall asleep at your desk?’ said Matt.

‘No, I just fainted, big deal,’ said Ren. ‘I hadn’t eaten and, big deal, I fainted. But because I hit my head he was, like-’

‘You hit your head?’

‘Just, I had a minor encounter with the floor.’

‘Don’t tell me — no big deal?’

‘Yes!’ said Ren.

‘He was right to send you home,’ said Matt.

Silence.

‘OK. Why hadn’t you eaten?’ said Matt.

‘Jesus, who gives a shit? I forgot to. Everyone forgets to eat …’

‘Not so much,’ said Matt.

‘That is bullshit,’ said Ren.

‘Even if it was bullshit,’ said Matt, ‘not everyone who doesn’t eat is as … affected by that as you are.’

‘Seriously, Matt …’

Silence.

‘You buy an entire wardrobe for Ethan,’ said Matt. ‘You don’t eat, you stay up half the night, you’re sleeping with two men, or about to, I don’t know and I don’t want to know. Yet, you can not see the pattern, here-’

‘Screw you.’ Ren hung up.

Breathe. Breathe.

There was a knock on the door.

‘Two-two-three? It’s your fellow inn-mate.’

Ren laughed loud. Years earlier, Paul Louderback had nicknamed her two-two-three after the bullets: ‘slim, elegant and golden’ as he described them. Then he quickly added that they were ‘stable until they hit the human body, then … they would rapidly become unstable’.

‘Are you alive?’ said Paul.

‘No,’ said Ren.

‘Can I come in?’ said Paul.

‘Do you have revivifying elixirs?’ said Ren. ‘Have you taken liberties? Come in.’

Paul pushed open the door and held up a bottle of wine. He had two glasses upside down between his fingers.

‘You actually have taken liberties,’ said Ren. ‘You clearly agree that there is nothing wrong with me.’

‘Apart from the drink problem, yes.’ He looked at her nightstand. ‘Have you taken painkillers?’

‘No, Your Honor.’

‘But I shouldn’t go counting puncture wounds in blister packs …’ said Paul.

‘Exackily.’

He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, then sat down on the bed and poured them each a glass of wine.

‘Thank you,’ said Ren. ‘I am so pissed off with Gary. Feel free to join me in that.’

‘Gary’s one of the good guys,’ said Paul. ‘Unfortunately for you. He is your great defender and protector …’

‘Anyhoo,’ said Ren.

Paul tilted his head. ‘Have you been crying?’

‘No …’

‘About this?’ said Paul. ‘About being sent home?’

‘No,’ said Ren. ‘My brother is giving me a hard time. It’s no big deal.’

‘Your wet eyelashes …’

‘Yes — looking good,’ said Ren.

Paul reached out and took her hand. ‘You always look good. But, particularly tonight. You had me at pajamas.’

Ren smiled. She leaned back against the pillow and closed her eyes.

This is too hard. You shouldn’t be here with me. I shouldn’t be here with you. Ben Rader is out working on the case, and here we are drinking wine. And popping painkillers …

‘Let’s watch a movie,’ said Ren.

‘Sounds great,’ said Paul.

That’s the pressure off.

Just after midnight, Ren’s phone beeped.

‘Sorry,’ said Ren, ‘let me just check this.’

u knw ur spendng 2 mch time wth 16 y/os, whn ur wondrng if sme1 wnts 2 b ur girlfrnd … XBen

Ren’s heart did a little flip.

She sent him back a Smiley face.

‘I should be too old for Smileys. I should hate them,’ said Ren, putting the phone down. ‘But I just don’t. They say so much.’

‘Who are you sending Smileys to?’ said Paul.

‘Everyone,’ said Ren. She held out her glass. It swayed. Paul poured more wine.

‘Thank you,’ said Ren. She drank more, and her eyes started to close. Paul took her glass and put it on the nightstand.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m … exhausted.’ And guilty. And so, so suddenly drunk. She closed her eyes as the room started to spin.

‘Shall I stay with you?’ said Paul. ‘Do you want me to?’

No. I want to do the right thing. I want to be kind to Ben Rader. Ben Rader is kind to me.

‘Yes,’ said Ren, opening her eyes. ‘But, just so you know, I’m probably going to …’ Her eyes closed.

‘Fall asleep?’ said Paul, smiling. He watched her for a minute until he was finished with his wine. He undressed to his plaid boxers and t-shirt and pulled back the covers. He lay behind her and wrapped his arm gently around her waist. He kissed her neck and pulled her closer.

‘Sweet dreams,’ he said, as quiet as he could.

Ren’s breathing was steady.

Paul’s eyes started to close. He spoke one last time, even quieter. ‘I think I might just be falling for you, Sleeping Beauty.’

Shit.