I have no idea how long we lay there connected but at some point his stomach grumbles and I giggle. “Hungry?”
“Only for you.” When he pulls out, I moan.
“Maybe we should pace ourselves or we could burn out and never want to make love again.”
His mouth drops open, feigning to be horrified as he grins. “Nah. Never gonna happen.”
“Yeah, but what if?”
“Huh.” He turns onto his side as if considering it. “I guess it’s possible… I’m willing to take the risk.”
Chapter Three
Suds
I wake in the middle of the night with an annoying tickle in my throat. Like everyone else it the city, I have my concerns and I suppose it could be the deadly virus, but more than likely, I caught me a plain ol’ cold.
Sam hears me stir and spoons behind me with one arm draped over my waist. “Bad dream?”
“No. Shush, go back to sleep.” The clock reads four in the morning but so what if I get up?
I can take a nap any time I want today, tomorrow, and the next. Climbing off the futon, I draw the curtain so the light doesn’t shine into the loft, and spiral down the stairs.
Catrina joins me as I cross the room and prances over to the fridge. She presses her nose to her food cabinet, in case I forgot where it is.
Once she’s fed, I stretch, and drink the last of instant coffee black. After, I sit at my computer and check the news. Damn. This COVID thing is big. The acid in my empty stomach churns as I read on. The governor is saying we could be stuck at home for weeks, maybe even months.
Shit.When the walls of our apartment close in, I take a deep breath and stroll to our large front window. On a workday, the subway platform is always full. The strange emptiness puts my nerves on edge. On the street below, delivery trucks come and go. Drivers, usually in no hurry, rush in and out. Done unloading, their taillights disappear into the mist.
Dark times cloud the edges of my mind and like my shrink suggested, rather than push the images away, I let a little seep in. He said I have survivor’s guilt. I call it hell.
A woman stands in the middle of the road cradling a baby blanket. Lucky was driving and too late we all saw what she carried. For a moment, the blast blinds me. Then, my pals’ dead faces float in front of my face, along with a montage of nightmares brought on by the pain killers.
My finger twitches, pulling the virtual trigger of the gun that was for years, the extension of my right hand. From there, memories get tangled up. I’m thrown into the back of a jeep with my right eye swollen shut and my leg bleeding all over the place. I fast forward through months of bandages, headaches, and vision charts.
“I see just fine.” I tell this to my CO.
“Sorry, Suds. You’ve got a sharp mind and I’ve got a few job interviews lined up for you.”
Boom. Career over.
My eyes water as the sky over the apartment buildings brighten with orange flecks and the night loses its grip on my soul. Yeah, it was fucked up for a while but now I got Sam. She’s the answer to my prayers, my heavenly reward for making it to the other side of hell.
Catrina jumps on the table while I’m typing and sticks her nose in my coffee which I pull back.
“No way. You’re plenty hyper, kitty.” As I scratch her head, she curls up in my lap, and purrs. You’d never know she’s a terrorist.
Lucky’s online when I check his instant message account. I guess I’m not the only restless one.
Me: Wassup?
Lucky: I heard you got the bloody plague.
Me: Jury’s still out
Lucky: Get tested?
Me: None available
