Light (Gone 6)

“Jesus, Diana,” he pleaded.

“Tell me, Caine. Did we make love or did we just have sex? It’s a simple question.”

“No, it isn’t,” Caine said.

He heard Diana’s sardonic laugh, and at that instant he knew the answer to her question. He heard that snarky, almost cruel laugh and he knew, and it filled him so suddenly full of emotion that he almost cried out.

“No, it’s not an easy question between us,” Diana admitted. Then: “Did we make love, Caine?”

“Okay. Okay, yes, Diana, we made love.”

“Say it to me, Caine,” she said.

“What’s the point?” he pleaded. “I’m running away. I’m saving myself and leaving you behind. I’m a rat deserting the sinking ship. I’m a coward holding on to his pathetic life for an extra hour or two. I’m scared to death; I can’t stand up to it anymore. I’m done. Why do you want me to say it?”

She didn’t answer.

She had bathed him when he was lost in madness, had spoon-fed him, had been there each time he woke to rave, to rave about the hunger in the dark.

She had backed him in all his wild plans. She had stood by him, despite, oh man, despite so much. So much.

He couldn’t see her face, just her outline, but he could picture her face in detail. In his mind he saw the full lips and the smirk and the way she sometimes pressed her lips together as if physically repressing laughter. And he saw her cheeks and the perfect line of her jaw and the neck that no male had ever seen without wanting to kiss.

And he saw her dark eyes.

And he saw her breasts.

And he saw her thighs and . . .

And somehow Diana, being Diana, knew every thought going through his mind, and she said, “I’ve had a baby. Things aren’t quite the way you left them. And it’s going to be some time before I’m ready for what’s going through your evil mind.”

“Okay,” he said.

“‘Okay,’ he lied,” she mocked.

He shook his head. She had him. Again.

“Just what are you ready for?” he asked.

“I’m a bit stiff,” she said. “Hard to climb down there.”

He raised one hand, and she rose slowly from the dock and then slowly descended, sliding down just inches from his face. He let her feet touch down in the boat, felt the weight of her as the boat rocked.

She tripped a little, or maybe she didn’t but only pretended, who cared: he took her in his arms. Yes, she felt different. Her belly was larger. Her breasts larger as well. The rest of her felt pitifully thin.

“How’s your mouth?” he asked, wanting badly to kiss her.

“Why, what do you have in mind?”

He laughed.

“Say it. But . . .”

“But what?” he asked.

She whispered it, sounding too vulnerable. “But only if it’s the truth, Caine. Only. If.”

“I love you,” he said.