Chapter Twenty Nine
It’s late now. So fricking late! When have they ever been up this late together?
That was the point of this night, their first whole long lucky night together. To stay up. To luxuriate in an abundanceof time.
They never have enough, what’s that line? Had we but world enough and time. And now it’s late. Well, early. Technically. Sorry, they’re a little…how much have they had to drink tonight?
They’ll have a mother of a hangover tomorrow, if…right. Late. Early. Whatever.
Point is, dawn is out there, somewhere, beyond the glow of the fire (oh Gad, Nick’s glow!), beyond the black curtains of smoke outside, and the thick gray blanket of it inside, pressing down on them.
But our intrepid lovers, Jenny and Nick, our lying, cheating, soaring and thudding, misguided, hapless,clueless humans (don’t forget they’re human, meaning they’re flawed, failed, finite, just like you), they don’t give a shit about the smoke.
They’re hidden in their fort. Huddled in there like a couple of passionate teenagers. Under white sheets, like a couple of ghosts.
Jenny takes Nick’s hand in hers and raises them, palm to palm. Tenting the sheet. She’s telling their story. Whispering it to him. They’re starting to cough.
They may be ignoring the smoke, but the smoke isn’t ignoring them, you know? So Jenny whispers. And coughs. And Nick kisses her. And coughs.
I love you, he says. I always loved you, I just didn’t know it. Because I’m a damned fool. Glad we got that straightened out, she says. He waits, watching her.
Expectant. You really don’t let up, do you? she says. Never, he says. She sighs. Well, fuck it. I love you, too. Do you? He takes her face in his hands. Don’t lie! She laughs.
I do. I do. And as she says it she knows it’s true. Because it all comes surging back, the torrent, the ridiculous, the overwhelming…Love. It’s fucking love! There’s nothing like it.
She smiles and kisses him. Now what? he says. Now you recite me some poetry, she says, and he bitches about it a little, but then he does. Little snippets, whatever comes to mind.
For God’s sake hold your tongue and let me love, he says. And she lets him love. He says, So let us melt and make no noise. And they both melt. Busy old fool, unruly sun, he says, something something call on us.
He’s whispering these things. Coughing. She’s listening. Laughing. There’s more kissing. And coughing. It’s getting harder to breathe in the smoky room. Which is maybe why they don’t hear it at first. The banging.
Coming from the hallway. And the voices. Muffled at first. Getting louder.
Shouting. Then more banging.
Someone is at the door.