Slowly, imperceptibly, the moment redefined itself. Ryan’s arms tightened. Mine responded. Unconsciously, our bodies molded to each other.
I felt Ryan’s heat. The familiar curve of his chest. His hips.
I started to speak. To protest? Doubtful.
Ryan’s hands slid to my throat. My face. He lifted my chin.
I realized I was still clutching Harry’s mobile. I turned to place it on the desk.
Ryan twisted my hair in his fist, kissed me hard on the mouth. I kissed back.
Tossed the phone.
Our fingers groped for buttons and zippers.
The digits on my clock glowed 8:34. At some point I, or we, had migrated to my bed. Rolling to my back, I extended an arm.
Cold needles prickled my chest. I was alone.
The refrigerator door whooshed, then a drawer rattled.
Relieved, I grabbed a robe and hurried to the kitchen.
Ryan was fully dressed, holding a beer, staring off into space. Suddenly it struck me. He looked exhausted.
“Hey,” I said.
Ryan started at my voice. “Hey.”
Our eyes met. Ryan grinned a grin I couldn’t interpret. Sadness? Nostalgia? Postcoitus languor?
“You good?” Ryan asked, extending an arm.
“I’m good.”
“You look tense.”
“I’m worried about Harry.”
“If you want I can put out a few feelers, check airlines, trains, car rental agencies.”
“No. Not yet. I—” I what? Overreacting? Being cavalier? The anonymous call and e-mail had implied a threat to my sister as well as to me. “Harry’s just so impulsive. I never know what she’ll do.”
“Come here.”
I moved to Ryan. He hugged me.
“So,” Ryan said.
“So,” I repeated.
Awkward tension filled the kitchen. Birdie wandered in and broke it.
“Birdster!” Ryan squatted to deliver an ear scratch.
“Do you have to rush off?” I asked. To Lutetia? I meant.
“Is that a hint?”
“Not at all. If you’re hungry I can throw something together. But I understand if you have to get back…”
Ryan’s knee popped as he rose. “I’m starving.”
I made my standard bare-cupboard meal. Linguine with clam sauce and a tossed salad. As we prepared the food and ate, I told Ryan what I’d found out about Hippo’s girl. He listened, asked good questions.
“Leprosy. Like, clapper and bell, unclean, go away?”
“The bells were as much to attract charity as to warn people they were approaching the sick. By the way, it’s now called Hansen’s disease.”
“Why?”
“
“Whatever the label, it’s a bad trip.”
“Leprosy actually exists in two forms, tuberculoid and lepromatous. The former is much milder, sometimes resulting in little more than depigmentation spots. Lepromatous leprosy is far more serious. Skin lesions, nodules, plaques, thickened dermis. In some cases the nasal mucosa becomes involved, resulting in chronic congestion and nosebleeds.”
“Not to mention the little buggers cause your flesh to rot.”
“That’s actually a misconception. It’s the body’s attempt to rid itself of the bacterium that causes tissue destruction, excessive regeneration, and eventually mutilation, not the bacterium itself. More salad?”
“Bring it on.”
I handed Ryan the bowl.
“I keep seeing that scene from
