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Show 125 "Huh?" "I could eat a goddamn priest, I'm so hungry. Let's go." "Uh, no thanks," said Steven, trying not to betray himself. "I think I'll sleep for a while." He didn't sleep. After the front door banged shut and it was once again quiet, he listened. Could hear children playing in the wet street, could hear water dripping from the tap in the kitchen, could even hear the buzz of a fat winter fly in the front room- but he could hear nothing from the bathroom. She must be freezing in there, he thought, and imagined her huddled naked on the toilet seat, too upset to cry, too upset to move. Naked and cold, a child, abandoned here in Spain on the steps of Ifach. The bastard! Beneath the blankets Steven clutched at his pillow, listened. Until the bathroom door opened and he could hear the soft padding of bare feet in the hall. He got up. Put on his pants and shirt and a sweater, put on his blue nylon windbreaker against the cold, and went himself, quietly, to the bathroom. There were no messages there, no evidence of how hard she was taking it. Steven washed his face and thought of the sea. Thought of them together, he and Sara, on their way to someplace warmer, on a boat to the Canary Islands. He had heard good things about the Canary Islands. |
