Peter May - Snakehead

‘I’ve been wondering about that ring on your wedding finger,’ he said.

‘Jesus!’ She laughed out loud. ‘You like picking at sores, Steve, don’t you?’

‘Oh, yeah, especially when you pick off that itching scab and make it sore all over again. The good bit is that it stops being itchy for a while.’

‘The point being that the raw pain is better than the itch?’

‘Exactly.’

She drained her wine glass and held it out for him to refill. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Here’s the raw pain. I married a guy when I was too young to know any better. A lecturer in genetics at Chicago. Good-looking, smart as hell, great future. He hanged himself after being convicted of raping and murdering one of his students.’ She took a large mouthful from her refilled glass.

Steve was stunned to silence and took a moment or two to recover. ‘Jees, Margaret, that’s one scab maybe I should have left unpicked.’

‘But you’re right,’ Margaret said, hanging on to control by the merest thread, ‘the raw pain is better than the itch.’ She turned the gold band around the base of her wedding finger. ‘Actually, I only started wearing this again to keep guys like you at a distance — and to keep them from asking awkward questions.’

He reached out and took her hand in his. It was firm and cool and held her gently. His eyes looked into hers with an almost unbearable directness. ‘No more questions,’ he said. ‘I promise.’

She laughed. ‘Bit late now.’

But he didn’t laugh with her. ‘Never too late,’ he said very seriously. ‘For any of us.’

They walked side by side in the dark toward the three arches of the Waterwall. Through them, illuminated by concealed lighting, water poured in a constant stream down a high wall shaped like a horseshoe around an artificial pool. They could see the silhouettes of people against the water, moving between the arches, lovers hand in hand, a woman with a long shawl dancing in the fine spray, a slow elegant dance of the night. Behind them, two tree-lined pedestrian walkways ran along either side of a long, manicured lawn, toward the rising shadow of the Transco Tower, lights still shining in every window.

Couples sat on benches under the trees, locked in embrace, kissing in the darkness. Shadowy figures moved about on the lawn below. As they neared the wall, Margaret felt the cool spray in the warm air. They had walked this way in silence since leaving the restaurant, and now, finally, Margaret put her arm through Steve’s. She felt his warmth and his strength through his shirt. But she was also aware at once of his uncertainty when at length he said, ‘I was told this afternoon that Li Yan was being officially attached to this investigation.’

She tensed, and then immediately forced herself to relax again. ‘So?’ she asked.

He said, ‘I didn’t want to say anything during the meal. I figured I’d inflicted enough damage already.’

‘So you saved this one till you knew my guard was down, huh?’ He looked at her quickly, and saw in the reflected light of the streetlamps in the road, that she was smiling. He was relieved.

‘I didn’t know how you’d cope with it, that’s all,’ he said. Then added quickly, ‘Being in close contact with him again, you know, while this thing’s ongoing.’

She shrugged. ‘I’ll just have to, won’t I?’ She thought for a moment. ‘I’ll avoid him when I can, and ignore him when I can’t.’

They were right up at the Waterwall now, the spray falling on them like a light drizzle. The arches were formed in a free-standing wall which reached an apex centrally above them. Beyond was a cobbled area leading to the pool below the curve of the Waterwall itself. The woman with the shawl was still dancing, drifting light-footed over the cobbles, arms stretching her shawl out to either side like the wings of a butterfly.

Steve took Margaret’s hand and led her through one of the arches. ‘Hey, it’s wet,’ she protested.

‘Does it matter?’ he asked.

‘I guess not.’

Her hair always separated into curling strands when it was wet. She brushed it out of her face, and almost before she knew it, Steve had stooped to kiss her lightly on the lips. She drew back.

‘Hey, I gave you permission to call me Margaret, not to kiss me.’

‘Who’s asking?’ he said, and he pulled her toward him and kissed her again. This time she didn’t draw away, and she felt his arms slip around her waist, and she draped her arms over his shoulders and raised herself on tiptoe to kiss him back.

Their cab drew in past a Pizza Hut to the car park of the Holiday Inn. Across South Main, the floodlit heart of the Texas Medical Center filled the night sky. Margaret and Steve walked into the hotel foyer. As always it was busy. People in wheelchairs, others hobbling on crutches. Pale-looking Arab men whose wives were robed from head to toe leaving only the narrowest strip across the eyes. Eastern European children with large, dark-ringed eyes and a dreadful pallor. Sick people. Wealthy foreigners come to America to buy the best medical care available. A bunch of Steve’s pathologists and investigators was drinking at the bar of the Bristol Room restaurant. ‘Hey Steve,’ one of them called. ‘Where you been, man? Come and get a beer.’

Someone else shouted, ‘And bring the medical examiner with you. It’s not fair keeping her all to yourself.’

Steve grinned, embarrassed. ‘I’m having an early night, guys.’ There was a low murmur of suggestive ‘ooohs’. ‘And you should, too,’ he added. ‘Heavy day tomorrow.’

‘Yes, sir ,’ someone else hollered, and they all saluted.

‘Down boys,’ Steve shouted. ‘Or I’ll set my eyebrows on you.’

They could still hear the laughter as the doors of the elevator slid shut, and then the silence between them was broken only by the hum of the motor.

‘I enjoyed tonight,’ Margaret said.

‘Me, too. We must do it again sometime.’ Steve paused for just a moment. ‘Like tomorrow.’

‘Before you leave, you mean?’ She didn’t really intend it, but there was a slight sting in her tone.

He looked at her seriously. ‘I get out of the Air Force in six months, Margaret. That was the deal. They pay me through med school, I give them three years of my life. I was doing great working out of the ME’s office in San Diego when they called in my contract. But I’m a free man in April.’

‘A lot can happen in six months.’ She knew it was way too early to make any kind of commitment.

‘A lot can happen in twenty-four hours,’ he said. ‘Live for the moment. We could be dead tomorrow.’

‘Yeah, or still alive and full of regrets.’

They got out on the fifth floor and started down the long hallway, walking slowly so as to delay the moment when they would stop at Margaret’s door. When eventually they got there, they stood for a long time not knowing what to say. Finally Margaret reached up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. ‘See you tomorrow, then.’

‘Margaret…’

But she put a finger up to his lips to stop him. ‘We can’t run before we can walk, Steve. And I’m still learning how to walk again.’

He nodded solemnly. ‘I could lend you a bicycle.’

Which made her smile, and she kissed him again. On the lips this time. Then, ‘Good night,’ she said firmly, and she unlocked her door and stepped into the darkness of her room.

She knew immediately he was there. She could feel his presence almost as clearly as if she could see him. But her eyes had not yet adjusted, and all she could see, through net curtains, were the illuminated twin peaks of St Luke’s Medical Tower across the road in Medicine City. She fumbled for the light switch without finding it, and then the bedside lamp flickered on, and she saw Li perched on the edge of her bed, the strain of apprehension etched clearly on his face.