Kane

She finishes off her drink and gets to her feet.

“Where are you going?” I ask cautiously.

“I’m embarrassed,” she says. Her cheeks have flushed red. “And I don’t need to be told twice. I’ve made a fool of myself. I’ll go.” She turns to get her jacket and clutches hold of the bar. I can only imagine how fast the room is spinning.

“Wait.” I get to my feet. “Don’t go. You haven’t made a fool of yourself at all. We’ve been talking for an hour, and I’ve called you beautiful several times. I find you attractive--of course I do. That’s not why I said no.”

She holds her jacket, but lowers herself back onto the stool. Pressing a hand to her forehead, she closes her eyes. “I shouldn’t have drunk so much. The pills…” Her words slur together.

“We should get you home.” I pocket my phone, pull on my jacket, and help her on with hers. She can barely lift her arms.

“I’m so tired,” she whispers.

“Come on.” I help her up, and support her as we walk to the door.

Outside, the evening is cool. The road is dusted with red and gold leaves, and our breath mists in front of our faces. It rained earlier, but it’s dry now, the sky clear and filled with stars.

I welcome the fresh air, which clears my head a little, but it doesn’t seem to work for the girl at my side. She leans against me, shoulders sagging.

“I’ll call you a taxi,” I tell her. She doesn’t reply. “Elen?” I try to look at her face. “Where do you live, so I can tell the driver?”

“I don’t… I…” She’s either nearly asleep or close to being unconscious.

I glance around us with concern. Calling a taxi isn’t going to help if she can’t remember where she lives. And what if she does recall? Is there going to be anyone at home to look after her?

I have few options; I can’t abandon her.

“Come on.” I slide my arm around her waist. “My apartment is only across the road.”

She says something, slurring her words, but I can’t understand her. Almost holding her up now, I lead her the short distance to where I live.

It’s a struggle to get her inside, and into the elevator. By the time I press the button, she’s slipping to the floor. Sighing, I bend and lift her into my arms, and wait for the doors to open.

I haven’t held a woman like this since I carried Jen over the threshold of our home. I think briefly about our house in the suburbs, the garden with the roses, the living room with the comfortable couch and pink cushions. It feels like a lifetime ago. Now she’s somewhere else with another guy and a baby on the way. Elen’s right--the world is shit.

I look down at the girl in my arms. Her skin is flushed, and she’s breathing normally. I think she’s asleep.

I study her face until the elevator dings and the doors open.

The corridor is empty, and I carry her to my apartment, juggle the key awkwardly, and let us in. It’s dark inside, and I don’t switch on any lights, not wanting to wake her. The moon is nearly full, and the whole apartment is lit with a silvery light, enough to see by.

I carry her through to my bedroom and lower her onto the bed. She doesn’t wake.

I go out to the kitchen, pour a glass of water, and drink it all in one go. Then I pour another, and take it into the bedroom, placing it on the bedside table next to her.

Walking to the other side of the bed, I take off my jacket and hang it over the chair. Finally, I pull the chair a little closer to the bed, and pause for a moment. It’s cool tonight. Do I have a spare blanket anywhere?

I glance at the bed, and to my surprise, her eyes are open.

“Am I in your room?” she asks.

“Yes. You should get into bed.”

“Okay.” She doesn’t move.

I turn and walk to the door, then glance over my shoulder. “I’ll come back in ten minutes and make sure you’re all right.”

She doesn’t say anything, so I go out.

I check my emails and surf the net for a bit, then after the ten minutes, I go back into the room. She’s under the covers, although I can’t see any clothes on the floor, so I think she’s fully dressed.

The moon is shining on her face, and her cheeks glisten.

“Hey.” I walk closer. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“It’s all right. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“I’ll still be single, though,” she says, and starts crying.

“Aw.” I perch on the edge of the bed. “He’s not worth it. If he didn’t treat you like a princess, you’re well rid of him.”

She just cries some more.

I know in the morning we’ll probably both be questioning our actions tonight. But at the moment, all I know is that she’s hurting, and I want to comfort her. I climb onto the bed, on top of the covers, prop up the pillows, and lean back on them. Automatically, like a wounded animal, she moves into my arms.

I hold her tightly, stroke her back, and kiss the top of her head while I murmur comforting endearments. There, there. It’ll be better tomorrow. Come on, you’ll be okay.

After a while, she stops shaking, and gradually her breathing evens out. I think she might have fallen asleep again. I pull the side of the duvet up, and it just covers my legs.

It’s been a long time since I’ve had a woman in my bed. I let my hand rest on her ribs just above the curve of her waist, and breathe in the smell of the minty shampoo she uses.

I thought I could live without this, that I might be celibate for the rest of my life rather than put myself through the battleground of another relationship. I thought that when Jen left, my heart died along with our marriage.

Well, what do you know. Maybe there’s a little life left in it yet.

Elen stirs, murmuring, and gives a little shudder. I lay there, listening to her breathe, and look out at the stars.