Uncle Harry

-24-

Harry pulls us both back up, and my arms are still shaky as they leave his skin and reach for my towel to shield myself from the chilling breeze. He pushes his damp hair back as his breathing starts to even out again. A pomegranate blush is residing over his sweaty chest and cheeks, and it matches the energetic glint in his eye when he looks at me again before grabbing his own towel. My throat tightens with the birth of awkward reassurances that were sure to come out from it, but I swallow them away as best as I can so I don't sound as if we just exchanged registration information... the 'are you okay's and 'I'm fine's. Feeling girlish and stupid and wild and shy, I clear my throat before I smile and lightly laugh as I look out to the black lake, my hair still whipping into my face with the wind. Did this really just happen? Did I just cheat on my husband with Harry? Pinching the skin of my thigh, I ground myself and remind myself this isn't another reverie, it's a problematic truth and satisfying yet sordid reality.

He stands up and grips the back of my neck, pulling me towards himself to reconnect our raw, swollen, used lips. Yes. Yes, I did. We did. And I wouldn't have changed a single thing if I even could. When he pulls away, his radiant eyes bore into mine. I know he's searching for an answer as to why what conspired between us felt better than anything we have ever done with anyone else. But I don't have a real answer for him besides maybe we were created for each other. Under horrible circumstances, sure, but maybe we were.

"Go downstairs," Harry says, his fingertips falling from my collarbone to adjust his towel. "Rinse off in the shower and I'll set up something to eat. Okay?"

The tongue-tying words get caught again in a web of disbelief and happiness. Nodding and speechless, I turn and step against the chilled hardwood floor of the deck to the stairs leading to the cabin below. In the dimly lit area, I find the small bathroom and switch the light on. A sink, toilet, and black tiled shower are all crammed into the space and I don't even bother to close the door before I turn the water on. It takes a while to heat and I wonder if it's only repurposed lake water, but I couldn't care even if it were. I step in and let the warm water cover me. The shower gel smells expensive and feels luxurious as it bubbles between my fingers, letting it lather as I wash and release myself of the grime from the lake and what's left of Harry between my weary legs.

I'm still in the same headspace as I was minutes ago, turned on and ignorant of my surroundings. There is nothing but him. There hasn't been since I met him at Arielle's wedding. Each lazed stroke of my foamy fingers is a mirroring trail of his own from before and that's how I spend my shower, wishing he was still touching me like this. Disoriented from champagne and gin and sex, I exit the room when I'm done and dried, blindly searching for my bag on the couch in the cabin. Only grabbing my nightshirt and no underthings, I sling it over and head back upstairs with uncombed, unruly hair.

Harry has pulled out warmed dinners from a toaster oven and put them onto the table, candles lit at the center, an ancient Coldplay song barely playing through the speakers. Half-naked with the damned towel, he sits there, a dumbstruck look plastered on his face as he stabs at the pasta with a fork and my heart melts helplessly.

"What's all this?" I ask, pulling out the seat next to him to sit, feeling the breeze again against the warmest part between my legs.

"Takeout from Marino's. Had one of the guys pick it up for me before we got here. Got your favorite." He hands me a fork and a cream colored terrycloth napkin to place over my lap.

Taking the utensil in my hand, I keep my eyes on him as I pull back the aluminum covering on my dish. His pupils are still dilated, still dangerous. "You're telling me a boat ride and sex wasn't my surprise after all, it's a candlelit dinner?" I hear his soft laugh. "Wow, I wish I was dressed appropriately for the occasion."