Thirty-Five
Simone
“What happened here?” Aaron said.
Minutes later, I’d managed to pull myself off the floor and kicked off my shoe.
More than anything I wanted to throw it away.
But I couldn’t. So I’d grabbed a roll of rough recycled paper towels and scrubbed it as best I could with bleach.
The turquoise and pink lettering on the side had melted away into a colorless glob, but I didn’t care.
I still scrubbed the shoe, knowing it would never be clean.
“Rat got on my shoe,” I said to Aaron, though I didn’t look up.
“Gimme some of those,” he said.
I used my elbow to slide the roll of paper towels toward him and he pulled off more than a handful, went over to the stain on the floor and gently wiped it up.
He came for another handful of paper towels and cleaned the spot until there was no trace of the rat’s corpse.
He was gone for about five minutes. The trek to A block, where I’d been having everyone take the trash, could be lengthy.
When he came back, he handed me an open pack of gum that was halfway gone.
“It’s not grape, but it’s the best I could come up with,” he said.
I tried to smile but kept my focus on the shoe. “Maybe later. I want to finish this.”
And froze when Rubin stopped beside us. “Something happened?” he asked, looking mostly at Aaron.
“There was a rat,” I said, watching his face for any reaction.
There wasn’t one. Aaron dared look at Rubin and gave him a quick smile.
“When she was little—”
“Aaron. Stop,” I said flatly.
“No, Aaron. Continue,” Rubin said.
Aaron looked at me regretfully. “Moni got bit up by rats when she was a little girl. Never did care much for them after that.”
Rubin looked at me and I braced myself. Already sick from that thing touching me, but ready to lose my meager lunch of pinto beans and canned turnips if Rubin dared show me pity.
He didn’t. Just looked at me almost coldly, but not cold enough.
“Did it bite you, miu?” he said softly. His voice was almost…tender. Excruciating.
I met his eye. “No, Rubin. The rat didn’t bite me,” I said mechanically. I pushed up from the table and walked away.
The floor was cold under my foot, but my toes curled involuntarily at the thought of putting the shoe on again.
“Simone, put on your shoe,” Rubin said.
“No, I—”
His eyes narrowed slightly and I cut off.
“The floor is cold. Put on your shoe.”
I made it seven steps and walked back to the table in half the time. Balanced my knee on the edge and forced my foot into the shoe. I wanted to sway but I managed to stand still, stay calm. Rubin looked at me the whole time. I could feel his gaze burning into my skin, but I didn’t look at him.
I couldn’t. I just focused on the spot where the rat had been, certain I could still see blood.
Rubin
“What does miu mean?”
It was nighttime. Simone’s voice was quiet, tentative in a way that was new. She looked at me, her expression not expectant, but not afraid either. I wasn’t sure what to make of it.
I also wasn’t sure why I was stalling because that’s exactly what I was doing. Simone had asked me a direct question. Not necessarily uncommon for her, but the tentativeness, the way that she attempted to manage me wasn’t present now.
“It means rat,” I said flatly, waiting for her reaction.
“What I am.”
Her statement was just as flat as mine had been.
“Yes,” I responded without hesitation, and waited for her answer. Again, I saw nothing.
She took the word in, didn’t nod, didn’t acknowledge it at all.
Instead, a haunting smile on her face, she stretched up and pressed her lips against my cheek.
She pulled back and looked at me, her expression giving away nothing.
I stared back at her, the phantom weight of her lips still on my cheek.
It struck me then, the desire—the need—to kiss her lips almost as strong as my need for revenge.
No.
I wouldn’t acknowledge that weakness, wouldn’t let Simone burrow any deeper under my skin.
She watched me, saw the change on my face. I turned her, pressed her cheek against the desk and pulled her hips back and entered her roughly, like that could take away the tenderness I was fighting to keep at bay.
And she yielded to me, every soft moan, every arch of her back indicting me. I pulled out and stroked my shaft angrily, Simone’s body drinking in every stroke. I came hard, fast, any pleasure I might have felt dying as soon as I looked into Simone’s eyes.
I washed my hands in the small metal sink, grateful for the running water and the excuse to break Simone’s stare.
I didn’t trust myself to stay here, so I headed for the door, and was stopped by Simone’s quiet whisper.
“Good night, Rubin.”
I forced myself to look at her. Forced myself to remember. “Good night, miu,” I spat.
I watched long enough to see her flinch at the word.
Then I left, telling myself I was happy.