Chapters 10-11
Ch. 10 A Gentle Hand
She finds him again the next day.
The sun beats down hot and unforgiving as he lays on the patio. The sun burns red through his sunglasses.
He presses the cool end of the Bloody Mary glass against his temple and revels in the press of the sticky plastic chair against his back. It digs into his skin and makes him feel solid, real.
A gentle, cool hand touches his arm lightly, he jerks in surprise but keeps his eyes firmly shut.
“Harry,” her voice soft, full of caring, as if she knows him and his pain. “Harry, dear, it’s time.”
It’s time…
The smell of smoke overwhelms him. And his hands shake under the faint echo of screams.
“Harry, darling, it’s been 5 years.”
Her hand is still resting on his arm, cool and assuring.
And her voice slowly fades away, and he takes a deep, shuddering breath, and she whispers, “I miss you, the real you. It’s time to find yourself again.”
He places his hand over hers, and lets it fade away. And he takes another deep breath, clearing the smoke from his lungs, cicadas replacing the screams in his ears.
Ch. 11 A Later Year
The long, low drone of cicadas sounds like baking sun and hot pavement.
The sun burns red through Harry’s sunglasses and closed eyes. He lies slouched against the stiff plastic webbing of the chair and it digs sharply into his back.
Harry takes a deep breath of fresh sea air and opens his eyes and stands up.
He walks out of the hotel, calling for his car.
Then he drives down the hill to the sea.
Back on the pool deck sits forgotten a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.