Sister City

Chapter Twenty Five

“You’re going to be a great mom,” I said, my voice breaking.

Shaking her head sadly, she said, “Let’s get you home, Rin.”

Luka held the cab door open for us. Megan, indicating her large belly, insisted I should get in first as it was difficult for her to slide across the back seat of the cab.

“I told you,” Megan said haughtily to Luka once she was in the cab.

“Yeah, yeah. My love, prepare yourself, this next statement may take you by surprise. As usual, you were right. You’re nearly always right. Now, don’t let it go to your head.”

“I won’t,” Megan said seriously.

“You guys are going to make such awesome parents,” I interrupted, breaking into a fresh round of noisy tears.

“This will stop eventually,” Luka stage whispered to Megan. “Right? Eventually her tear ducts will dry up and be useless from all this overuse, right?”

“Luka,” Megan admonished. “Have some tact. Her nose will crack and bleed and she’ll run out of snot long before her tear ducts dry up.”

They continued on in this vein, discussing which parts of me would wear out from overuse, which parts would shrivel up and break off from underuse, and – in general - how long it would take me to fall apart. I had to laugh. Their predictions were ridiculous, and they were insulting. Nonetheless, if I were to be generous, I would have to admit that they were funny.

We made it home, eventually, after what seemed like hours of torture. Mom was waiting at the doorway with my super soft robe and my fuzzy slippers.

“Damnit, Luka,” I swore, putting the emphasis on the nit just to irritate him. “It’s not fair to text her while you’re driving.”

That earned Luka a stern reproach from Mom, who was unaware we had taken a cab, which allowed me to slip away into the bathroom and lock the door before I was assaulted with questions. I started the water, turning it nearly all the way to the left which was as hot as I could stand and waited for it to heat up to scalding. I refuse to believe that there is anyone on the face of the planet who turns the water on after getting into the shower.

I shimmied out of the dress and though I desperately wanted to, I refrained from dropping it into the trash can along with my pantyhose. A small part of me wanted to keep the dress as a reminder of the dance Marcus and I shared, but the rest of me – a considerably larger portion – wanted to burn the dress, and a miniature version of Marcus, in effigy.

Mom would have killed me if I destroyed such an expensive dress for what – in her opinion – would be little to no cause. Logic won out and I dropped the dress into a Doctor Pepper crusted heap on the tile floor. My strapless bra followed suit shortly after and I braced myself for the delicious sting of the water on my skin. I stepped into the shower and managed to rake the front of my shin across the metal track for the shower door. I had stepped over that damn thing countless times previously without incident; what was wrong with me?

“And, there's blood running down my leg. Frak.”

Could the universe be any ruder? The feel of the water pounding on my back was soothing. Though I was having homicidal and suicidal thoughts, the water was calmed me somewhat. My mind headed in a different direction entirely as the warmth of the water reminded me of the heat I felt when Marcus had his arms around my waist. The same tingling sensation coursed through my body like electricity.

My fingers danced across the small scars on my shoulder. I compared each minute imperfection in the top one to the ones in the lower one. My hand continued downward causing my palm to brush across my breast. I inhaled sharply. My fingers ran along my ribs, which tickled ever so slightly. My palm slid across my stomach and I moaned when my fingers found what they were seeking. The speed of my fingers increased as I remembered the hard heat of Marcus. I leaned my head against the shower wall, just out of the water spray, closed my eyes and focused on The Kiss with every ounce of concentration I could muster.