Losing Charity

Losing Charity - 13

A sudden sharp stabbing pain in my side.

My eyes snap open. I jolt awake and sit straight up.

Like someone in a movie, waking from a nightmare.

I don't know where I am.

My eyes dart back and worth. Wildly.

I feel exposed. I am exposed.

In my fanciest underwear and sheer black thigh highs.

I place the round room. Fire pit. Candles. Floor cushion.

Right. Peter's apartment. The weird room. I dozed off.

Where is my dress?

I look around. Don't see it.

Peter stands beside the fire pit, his back to me. The flames leap and caper. He has stoked the fire up.

I'm about to speak to him when, suddenly, I don't.

It's hard to explain. My mouth is open. My lips are forming the shape of his name. And then I freeze, mid-syllable.

Pre-syllable really.

I don't speak. Instead, I listen. And look.

I'm, like, hyper-listening and hyper-looking.

Peter has changed clothes. He's wearing what looks like a black silk robe. But not a bathrobe. Not that kind of robe. More like something a judge would wear. Or a priest maybe.

He's talking. To whom, I'm not sure. Not to me. I was out of it until about two seconds ago. Peter is well into whatever he's saying. Very animated. Waving his hands.

I don't understand a word. Sounds like more Chaldean.

He tosses a handful of something into the fire. Salt or sand or I don't know. The flames leap and turn dark purple. Thick smoke boils up and is drawn through some hidden vents in the ceiling.

It's kind of cool. A neat trick.

Even cooler? All the candle flames turn purple too.

The five red candles at the points of the star around the fire pit. All the dozens of candles on the shelves around the walls. The five black candles around Peter.

And the five purple candles around the floor cushion I'm on.

Which are new.

As in, those weren't there when I came in.

I distinctly remember all the candles were red or black.

Were there seriously not enough candles burning in here already? I'm all for romantic mood lighting, but he had to light five more and put them around me while I was passed out in my underwear?

That's when I realize something.

I really have to pee.

Like, really bad.

I know. I went at Barbat.

But I have an abnormally small bladder. It's a thing.

I mean, that's not doctor confirmed. It's not a medical condition exactly. I just have to go a lot.

Especially after three glasses of wine.

Fine. Three and a half.

Plus the sparkling water. With lime.

Point is, I had a sudden urgent need to excuse myself to the little girl's room.

And no idea where it was.