I dreamed that Moira stood outside Gwen's bedroom door holding a drowned cat by the tail and water running down the hallway over her bare feet. All I could see of her face were two dark blue marbles.
I woke, certain at first that Moira stood at the foot of the bed staring at me. But the dark shape arranged itself into a wardrobe closet next to the dresser. I turned my thoughts to Gwen, unable to separate her image from Moira's, so that everything I remembered of our rough lovemaking had its twin with it, the sexual bouts in the motel bed with Moira gasping and biting. When I tried to recall the things Gwen had said just before we fell asleep the voice in my head was Moira's, singing not speaking, her tone like that of an angry mother scolding her child.
When I was fully awake the tension eased away and the two images, the two spirits, separated; Gwen's face drowned in sleep and Moira's phantom gone. I heard the wind-up kitchen clock ticking. The electric water-heater kicked on. Somehow the mundane noises alerted me to something wrong about the quietness. I got out of bed and pulled on my jeans.
In the hallway I stared at the dry floor. Across from me the guest bedroom door was open, and gradually, as my eyes accustomed themselves to the dark, I saw that the rumpled bed was empty. The door at the end of the hall was locked; I could tell by the position of the latch. I looked down the hall to the kitchen. The clock was as loud now as a hammer striking an anvil. The bathroom door was shut, but I was drawn to it; not by natural reasons, but by a fear that pulled at me.
She's in the tub, I thought, convinced of it. I went to the bathroom door and turned the knob. It was not locked. I didn't bother calling her name. I opened the door, tensed up from what I feared I might discover.
The ceiling light in the frosted globe was off, but the big pebbled-glass window above the tub let in just enough moonlight to show Moira sitting naked in the water with her knees up and her head lying on the tub's rim. I took hold of her shoulders and tilted her back, her head falling onto my left forearm. Her eyes were half-open. I could hardly breathe. Then her eyes fluttered. Her breasts heaved, and she coughed, shivering violently for a second. She met my gaze and surprised me with a choked scream and a claw-handed slap across my jaw.
I pulled back from her but kept my grip on her shoulders. She looked like she was going to scream, but her wide-stretched mouth stayed silent as her eyes stared at something behind me. I knew what it was before Moira really did scream; or rather shouted, a mix of panic and hate.
I looked back and there was Gwen in her bathrobe, hesitating in the doorway. "What's this?" she said, in not so much a puzzled tone as in a disgusted one.
Moira was shaking. I told Gwen to get out and shut the door. She was offended, but stepped out backwards and closed the door firmly.
Moira said, "What was she doing in here?" So she was all right, I thought, and letting go of her I stood up.
"Let's get you back to bed, it's the middle of the night."
She was trying to think of some excuse, or maybe waiting for the fog in her head to clear. Then with a crazy expression she said, "Take a shower with me? Take a shower with me!"
When I did nothing but frown at her she made a soundless laugh and was herself again. She said in that stern mama's voice, "I can smell what you've been doing. You need to take a shower."
"You get back in bed and I'll take a shower." I grabbed a towel from the rack and handed it to her. She was dry from the waist up.
She held the towel like it was an apron she was about to put on, and with a wince she got up onto her knees, twisting sideways, and gave me a dark inquisitive look. "You don't need a shower if you're going back to HER bed. She'll like how you smell. It's got her in it."
I said what I knew she would appreciate: "You get your snow white ass in bed and I'll sleep where I goddamn please."
She made a face at me. "I don't care where you sleep, William. After breakfast we're leaving." She stood and wrapped the towel around her. "Or you can stay here and I'll hitchhike."
"For you, it's either the bike or the bus."
She looked at me as if my words made no sense to her.
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