Flesh

dragged the shotgun over to the door and propped it against the wall. She attached the guard chain.

The disgusting odors still filled the room. In the kitchen, she searched until she found candles in a drawer. She lighted three of them, dripped wax onto paper plates, and stuck them upright. She brought the candles into the living room and placed them on the coffee table.

Sitting on the sofa, she leaned back and propped her feet on the table between two of the candle plates.

She wondered if Jake would come back into the room after his shower. Maybe they could have a drink together.

He’d been through a nightmare of his own, tonight: burning Roland, watching while the coroner cut him open. That one odor, the really bad one…

And he apologized to me for not having better news.

Maybe he won’t like seeing the candles. They might remind him of what happened earlier.

Alison sniffed. The nasty odors seemed faint. She puffed out the candles and carried them back into the kitchen. Then she went to the front door. She opened it enough to peer out, then shut it again, removed the guard chain, and swung the door wide.

The breeze smelled wonderful. It blew her hair. It felt cool and good on her body. She opened the sweater. The breeze caressed her through the negligee, moved up her bare legs. It felt just as fine as before, when she was standing naked at her bedroom window, and then it stopped feeling fine as the memory surged in of waking to find Roland above her. Moaning, she swung the door shut. She leaned against it, head against her crossed arms.

“Alison?”

She turned around. Jake was standing in the hallway entrance, wearing a robe.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Not very. How about you?”

“Better.”

“I was just letting in some fresh air.”

She saw his gaze stray downward, then back to her face. Just in time to catch my blush, she thought.

“I guess I’d better hit the sack,” Jake said. “Don’t you want to trade places? I’m sure my bed would be a lot more comfortable for you.”

“The sofa’s fine. Really.”

“It’s up to you.” He rubbed his chin. “Well, see you in the morning, Alison. Sleep tight, huh?”

“Yeah. You, too.”

He turned away. Alison looked down at herself. You sure gave him an eyeful, she thought. He noticed, too, but he didn’t get funny. That’s good. Would’ve been awkward if he’d decided it was some kind of an invitation.

Was it some kind of an invitation? she wondered. How come I didn’t bother pulling the sweater shut before I turned around? He probably thinks I did it on purpose.

I bet that’s why he ran off so fast. He came in, maybe to spend a while talking, saw me like this, and decided he’d better beat a quick retreat.

Scared him away.

Don’t flatter yourself, she thought. He left because he’s had a long, rough day and he’s tired. Probably didn’t care, one way or the other, about me and my nightie.

She took off the sweater. Standing there, she folded it slowly and watched the hallway.

Jake was probably in bed already.

Alison moved quietly through the room, turning off lights. There was no need for the lights now that Jake was here.

It felt good, knowing that he was in the house, only a few seconds away.

Alison lay down on the sofa and pulled the sheet up.

He didn’t have to rush off like that, she thought. We should’ve talked for a while.

She imagined herself walking down the dark hallway to his room. Asking if he was asleep. Telling him that she didn’t want to be alone, not just yet.

Why not crawl into his bed while you’re at it? Sure. You just dumped Evan because he wasn’t interested in anything but making it and you’re hot to jump in bed with a guy you hardly know.

I am not. I wouldn’t do that. Why am I even thinking about it, after all that’s happened tonight?

What do you want to think about—Helen?

She saw Helen on the bed, glasses crooked…

The image clenched her with cold, tight fists. She lurched up and gazed through the darkness, gasping.

When Jake woke up, his room was bright. He squinted at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Almost ten o’clock. But what day was this? Monday.

He rolled onto his belly and pushed his face into the soft warmth of the pillow.

Need to get up, he thought. Need to—what? Go back to where you found Roland, check around, talk to people. What for? See if they saw anything. A snake in the grass.

Shit. It seemed pointless.

Need to do something, though. Need to make sure the thing’s dead, is what. Cause if it’s not dead, Alison…

She’s here. Sleeping on the sofa.

And me in my bed. What virtue. Congratulations, Corey.

Missed your big chance.

It would’ve been wrong. Taking advantage.

I know, he thought. Don’t I know. Fell asleep last night telling myself just how wrong it would be…and how nice. Even if we’d done no more than hold each other, it would’ve been fine.

He remembered how small and vulnerable she had looked sitting behind Barney’s desk, holding onto the coffee cup as if it were a talisman that would keep harm away. And sitting in the car, that nightie barely covering her legs. And when he came out after the shower and her sweater was open.

Jake’s penis was pushing uncomfortably against the mattress. He rolled onto his back to relieve the pressure.

Real nice, he thought. The knight in shiny armor has a hard-on.

Sorry about that, Alison.

Alison, a pretty name. Alison Sanders.

He wondered if she was still asleep. It would be nice to see her sleeping on the sofa, probably looking as peaceful as a little kid. He couldn’t go sneaking in and watch her, though. What would she think if she woke up?

Go in and make a pot of coffee. Take a cup to her.

We’ll sit for a while, talking. Alison will be all sleepy, her hair mussed. Maybe she’ll have the sheet wrapped around her so neither of us will have to be embarrassed about her nightgown.

Take your robe to her. That way, she’ll know your intentions are honorable.

Jake pulled the sheet aside. He rolled off the bed and stood up. He was shirtless and wearing his pajama pants. Though his erection had diminished, the front of the pants still bulged somewhat. He headed for the dresser, planning to put on his pajama shirt before venturing from the room, and stopped abruptly at the foot of his bed.

Alison was asleep on the floor.

She lay curled on her side, a pillow under her head, her bare feet protruding from the sheet that covered her to the shoulders.

Jake stared down at the girl, bewildered by her presence. Unless she had walked in her sleep, she had come here on purpose, needing the comfort of being close to him. She must’ve been suffering, alone in the other room. Needed a friend. So she’d snuck in here and made her bed on the floor to be near him.

I should’ve stayed up with her, he thought. I should’ve realized.

He crouched in front of Alison. Wisps of hair hung over the side of her face. Her mouth was open, its lower corner buried in the pillow. The peaceful way she looked reminded Jake of Kimmy.