“Come in,” she says, her voice raw and weepy.
I push the door open, and I’m smacked hard and relentlessly with a pungent, sulfuric, foul scent. I was so distracted before, so focused on my tree, on the cruel way I behaved, that I didn’t notice the stench. But in this room—there’s no denying it. It will not be disguised or ignored; it’s here to eat its victims alive.
Skunk.
Oh, holy skunk.
I swallow down the urge to be sick and enter the dimly lit room. She’s kept all the lights off except for one flickering candle on the vanity. I flip them on and step into the long bath. This house is tiny, but the one and only bathroom is a decent size with an old porcelain tub in the corner, a toilet closet, and a separate stall shower. As well as double sinks on the opposite wall. I walk past the shower and the closet to Stella—in the tub. I jerk back, and a cough escapes me at the sight of her, though she’s perfectly covered by water and something else …
“I’m sorry for the smell,” she sobs. Her face is cherry red and stained with tear streaks. She’s been crying for a while.
My eyes drop to her shoulders—as if I can’t control them. She’s concealed by water and some sort of red murkiness, aswell as a shirt top. At least, I think those are tank top straps on her shoulders. Her blonde hair is tousled on top of her head in a bun. Her glasses are on the edge of the crowded sink counter, and the little makeup she put on before our counseling appointment is long gone.
I rub my nose with the sting of her sulfurous scent. “What happened?” I ask, keeping my tone gentle.
Stella squeezes her eyes closed and swivels her head to the side, looking away from me. “I went for a walk. I just needed to think. I ran into that skunk family again.” Her chest heaves with another sob. “I screamed. They surprised me, and I think I startled them. They all turned and sprayed me.” Another sob breaks forth. “Even the pups. They all attacked me as if I were their enemy.”
I sit on the side of the tub and reach for her cheek. “Let me see your eyes.” I swivel her head, and she willingly turns to look at me. Red and puffy. “You need to rinse your eyes.” I peer down into the red, murky water. “But not in this.” My nose wrinkles, unsure of what I’m looking at. “What is this?”
More tears spring from her eyes. She lifts a shaky hand from the water, remnants of whatever she’s added sticking to her arm and fingers. She presses a hand to her head, leaving a spattered red streak there. “All the tomato sauce you had. Which wasn’t much, so I added all your spaghetti sauce too.”
That’s when I notice the jars and cans littered throughout the room—on the floor around this tub and the crowded sink counter. It’s crowded because of the empty marinara sauce jars. They’re everywhere.
She whimpers, and the hand at her temple shakes. “It’s the only remedy I could remember.”
I move her hand from her face, studying the spaghettisauce moon she’s left on her forehead. “I think that’s an old wives’ tale. We need to get your eyes rinsed.”
Rolling away from me, she cries into the porcelain tub. “I lied to you, Roman. I lied and I married you and I stunk up your house. Maybe you should leave me here to expire.”
“Expire? You aren’t a tomato. The smell will fade. And I have a remedy that might work.”
But Stella only cries more. “I’m sorry,” she says. “You were doing fine, and I brought you all my bad karma and ruined your life.”
I clear my throat. “I wasn’t doing fine.” I lean over, trying to catch her eye, but she’s still crying into the left side of the tub. “Stella, will you look at me?”
Hiccupping, she shudders, turning to face me as if she must. She’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen. This beautiful girl covered in marinara, eyes red and swollen, tears streaming, and, oh man, does she stink.
“You need to get out of the tub.” Thosearetank top straps over her shoulders. So, I don’t bother giving her any privacy.
Her lip quivers, but otherwise she makes absolutely no sign of moving.
“Fine,” I say. Bending over, I yank the shoes from my feet and then the socks. “If you won’t move, I’ll move you.”
I toss off my flannel jacket and reach into Stella’s tomato sauce tub. She doesn’t bark at me to leave her alone. Clearly, the woman needs help. I lift her beneath the arms as if she were a child.
Gasping, her lips quiver with another cry, but she never protests. With her head hanging, she strings her arms around my neck for support.
I’m guessing her tank top and underwear weren’t this coral orange color when she got in.
“Come on,” I tell her, standing and hoisting her onto her feet. “Let’s shower this stuff off of you.”
“I’m sorry,” she whimpers, finally speaking. “I’m so sorry I lied to you.”
Grunting, I scoop beneath her legs, lifting her into my arms. I press one kiss to her tomatoey temple. “You are forgiven. As long as you can forgive me too.”
“I reek,” she cries. “You should go. I’m going to make you stink too.” But she’s shaking with the chill in the air, and the grip she’s got on my neck doesn’t convince me that she wants me to leave.
I can’t set her down. I won’t go. Not with her trembling, not with that broken expression so full of despair. I step inside the shower stall with her. Setting her on her feet but keeping one arm tight around her back, I swivel the shower knob to warm. Only, the first stream that rains down on us is brisk and cold. Stella whimpers out another cry.
