'I don't know.'
'I believe that trees and stones have spirits living in them. I believe that people have light inside them, even the worst people. I believe that the lives we are living now lead us to our next life, and the lives we led before led us to this one. Do you believe in your next life, Poke?'
'I don't know how I'm going to get through my current one.'
'No, you don't,' she says. 'And that's a problem for me. I have problems, lots of problems, that you can't see, Poke, and some of them are about you. I see things in your life and mine, and Miaow's, that can't just be fixed.' Her hair has fallen forward, and she pulls her hands from her pockets, slips them beneath the long fall of hair, and throws it back over her shoulders, a gesture he has always found compellingly beautiful. 'You see a problem and your response is to fix it, like it's a broken air conditioner, or forget about it. I can't do that. That's not how life works for me. The things we do, the things we don't do, they carry forward into other lives. Lives that come after this one. And they affect other people's lives, now and in the future.'
Rafferty's head feels like it weighs fifty pounds. He lets it drop forward so his chin almost rests on his chest. 'Give me an example.'
'My life before I met you.' Her voice is defiant.
Poke had expected this subject, but not in this context. 'I know all about that.'
'Do you? I don't think you do. You know about it the same way you'd know the story of a movie you watched.' She raises her hands to her shoulders and brings them straight down, putting herself inside an invisible frame. 'She danced, she went with men, she quit. End of story, except that you get to feel good about yourself by putting it all in the past, by saying it doesn't matter anymore. But it does matter.'
'I know this is probably the wrong thing to say, but it doesn't matter to me.'
'Do you understand the damage I did to myself? Do you know what I have to carry with me? That I danced up on that bar night after night with my rear end showing, so men could say, 'Send me Number 57,' like I was a sandwich? That I went to their hotels, no matter what they wanted-whether they wanted to make a pornographic video, or have me pee on them, or give it to me in the ass? I did that, Poke, I did all of it. I took money for it. I could have walked out of those rooms at any time, and I didn't.'
She stops herself and draws two deep breaths. Her shoulders slump, and suddenly she is sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch. She picks up a pack of cigarettes, works one out, flicks the lighter, and looks at him over the flame.
'There's nothing I can do about that,' Poke says, 'except to love you and to understand why you did it.'
'Yes,' she says. She inhales hard, brightening the coal at the cigarette's tip enough to cast a red glow on her cheekbones. 'You do understand that. I did it for my family.'
'And that makes merit,' Poke says. He has both hands on the edge of the table, leaning forward with enough force to whiten his knuckles. 'That has to mean something. It has to…I don't know, cancel out some of…some of the other stuff.'
'I'll carry it with me as long as I live,' she says. 'And beyond.' The cigarette dangles loosely from her fingers, forgotten. 'And I bring that damage into your life. Into Miaow's.'
'We need you,' he says.
'You think you do. And you think I'll be good for you and you'll be good for me, and that will fix me, just like adopting Miaow will fix her, just like you want to fix the boy. That's good of you, Poke. It's generous. It comes from a warm heart. But we're not air conditioners. We are who we are because of who we've been, in this life and in the past. It's too deep to tinker with, and you can't see that, even though to me it's a wall fifty feet high.' She rediscovers the cigarette, puts it to her lips, and lowers it again without taking a drag. 'And it will be here, that damage, in this house.'
And then she's up again, walking away from him. 'You think you understand about my family,' she says without looking back. 'You know I worked the bars because of my family. But if I did that for them, Poke, what else will I do?'
'You'll take care of them. I'll help you take care of them.'
She turns to face him. 'We have ten dollars left,' she says. Her voice is so low he has to strain to hear it. 'Miaow is hungry. My little sister up north is hungry. Who gets the ten dollars?'
Rafferty pushes the table so hard it slides away from him. 'We're never going to be down to ten dollars, Rose. You can't take an insurance policy against the entire future.'
'I would send the money to my sister,' Rose says. 'Without a minute's thought. Is this a problem?'
After a moment too long for Rafferty to measure it, he says, 'Yes.'
'Well, that's what you would be getting, Poke. You would be getting my damage, my mama and papa, and my brothers and sisters, too. You would be getting my priorities. And I would be getting the knowledge that I might harm you, and even Miaow.'
'How much harm would you do to Miaow if you left?'
She shakes her head, and for a second he thinks he misunderstood something she said. 'I'm not talking about leaving. You said you wanted to marry me. That's different than playing house. That's joining souls, Poke. The threads they'll tie around our heads will join my soul to yours. I do you the honor of taking that seriously.' She holds up a hand, palm out, to stop him from replying. 'Don't you think this is difficult for me? Don't you think it would be easier for me to pretend that none of this matters? I could just say yes, Poke, and bring you into a world you'd never understand. You wouldn't even know who was sleeping next to you. Most girls who came out of the bars would say yes in the amount of time it would take their hearts to beat. And then they'd clean out your bank account and leave you in the middle of the night, and I know lots of girls who would think I'm crazy for not doing that.'
'They're not you.'
'No, they're not. But what they would have done to you might be better for you than marrying me.'
He leans back, suddenly aware that he looks like someone who is about to spring. 'I'm listening to you. I'm trying to understand what you're saying. Do I get to talk?'
She gives him a half smile. 'I've never known you not to.'
'Okay.' He folds his hands, looking desperately for the words. 'So here's me. I'm not the greatest bargain in the world. I've spent most of my life looking for something easy, something that might be fun for an hour or an evening. I've been the guy in the hotel room, remember? Ask Fon. I'm not proud of that. I'm not proud of much I've done. I've wasted a lot of my life.' He grabs a breath. 'This life anyway.' Rose lowers her head to hide another smile. 'Maybe the best thing I can say about myself is that I try not to hurt other people. I don't always succeed, but I try.'
'That counts.' Rose has leaned against the edge of the desk, her back straight. Holding her left shoulder with her right hand. To Rafferty it looks like a defense.
'And you…well, you're one of the best people I've ever met. You're good and generous and truthful and beautiful. I could look at you for the rest of my life without my eyes getting tired. Maybe you're right, maybe I don't see most of what you see. Maybe I'm lost, maybe I'm sleepwalking. Maybe you could wake me up.'
Rose draws a long breath and blows it out, turning slowly to the glass doors. She could be counting the lights in the windows. 'A while ago, you said 'I can try,'' she says. She looks back to him. 'I can try, too.'
'I promise to keep my eyes open. I promise to listen. I promise not to think I can make everything right by fixing your intake valve or something. But I don't promise not to try to make things right. That's part of the way I love you.'
Rose brings both hands to her mouth. The gesture stops him.
'I haven't said I love you,' Rose says. 'I should have said that first. I do love you. I love you enough to try to do this right or not do it at all.'
'We can try,' Rafferty says. 'We can try together.' For the first time, he feels confident enough to stand.
'There's one more thing,' Rose says. 'And, Poke? I don't expect us to solve all these things tonight. But I want it all said. I don't want to leave anything under-what is it you say? — under the couch.'
'Under the rug.' He is aching to hold her.
'All right, under the rug.' She brings her hands together in front of her, loosely folded. 'I'm someone who is changing her life. I'm the person, the only person, who takes care of my family. I'm someone who has been used and lied to, and lied to again, for years. I've met the experts.'
'I know.'
She holds up both hands. 'Right now, Poke, I'm balanced on top of a high wall. If I walk exactly right, I'll be
