She really sobbed.
Christ! She was noisy. “Smitty...” He tried to think. He tried to say the word he thought he needed to say. It wouldn’t come.
Her hair hung around her face, and she clutched her knees. She clung to them as if there was nothing else in the world for her to hold. For an instant he had the stupid thought that she looked as if she were growing smaller.
“Stop crying, okay?” He rubbed his clammy hands on his pants again and took a deep breath, then exhaled. “Please.”
He squatted down in front of her. “Look at me, Smitty.” He paused, then added, “Please.”
She didn’t move.
“Please.” There, he thought. Third time. It was getting easier. Then he looked at her still hunched in that position, still sobbing.
“Oh, shit!” He slid his arms under her and picked her up, then stood. She curled into him, her head on his shoulder, her whole body limp.
“I—I—I didn’t w—want to... to fe-he-he-el this way.” Her voice was weak and her words stuttered between her breaths.
“I know.” He started walking her toward the hut.
“It... it... just happened. But it’s so... so stupid, you know? Really stupid. It... it doesn’t make any sense.”
“Sure, sweetheart.”
Her damp face was in his neck. “How could this happen?”
“Don’t ask me.”
“I’m trying not to care.”
“I can tell that.” He rubbed his chin against the top of her head.
“I didn’t want to care. You—you’re not the kind of man I should care about, you know?”
“I know.”
She sobbed again.
He rubbed her back lightly with his hand.
“Oh, Hank,” she wailed.
“What, sweetheart?”
“I don’t even like you!”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t like me either.”
“You wouldn’t?”
“Nah. I can be a stubborn bastard.”
“Yes, you can.”
She was quiet for a minute. He looked down at her. She was thinking again. But hell, it was better than her crying.
She took a deep breath and muttered into his neck, “Why? It isn’t logical.” She looked up at him finally. Her face was pink and blotchy and a god-awful mess. “Why us?”
“Because, sweetheart.” He looked down at her but kept walking. “Life deals you deuces.”
