The Woman Who Fell To Earth

Chapter 25

Saturn

Art could not face David the following morning. He hid in his bedroom, pretending to sleep. He heard her moving about in the next room, smelled the coffee she had made. He hung his head, felt sick to his stomach. He had so much beer urine stored up in his bladder, but he couldn't bear to relieve himself and face David. Besides, he thought, he deserved to be punished for what he had done, and if his punishment involved poisoning himself through urine toxicity or whatever happened when you held you pee for too long, so be it. He had insurance, right? Shit, no, he needed to do that. Duncan Manufacturing's policy ran out on him earlier that week.

He knew he had to face the music sometime, beg for forgiveness, but no, he didn't even deserve forgiveness. Fuck. What had he done? Now what?

He didn't have to answer that because David knocked on the door. He could tell by the force from her knuckles that she was far from forgiving him. She didn't wait for him to answer, but opened the door.

"Here, you'll need this," she said stoically, handing him two white pills and a glass of water. "I'll be in the kitchen when you're ready to grovel."

She left the door open when she exited, which Art took to mean she expected him immediately. He swallowed the pain relievers and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He purposefully waited longer to use the toilet, to prolong the suffering he so well deserved. After emptying a bucket of liquid from his body, he shamefully trudged on cement blocks to the kitchen.

David sat at the table covered from her neck to her ankles in everything she could find. She looked at him stone faced.

"If I were you," Art began, "I'd hit me."

"I'm pissed off, Art. I'm not violent." Her voice was like ice. "You tried to take advantage of me while I was sleeping. I thought we were friends."

"We are friends. Oh, David," Art fell to his knees by her side. "I don't know what came over me. I was drunk and, god, you looked so, ugh, I can't even say it. I'm so ashamed, and so very sorry."

"You objectified me, Arthur. And after all we've been through together. I'm disgusted. And I'm disappointed."

"I have no excuse," Art said. "You're right. I completely objectified you after all we've been through together. I promise it will never, ever happen again. Will you forgive me?"

David sat silently for a full minute. She took a sip of her coffee, then looked at Art sitting on the linoleum next to her. She rolled her eyes and scoffed. "You look so pathetic sitting on the floor like that. Yes, I guess I can forgive you. Once. Now stand up, have a little self-respect."

It took Art three attempts to get up off the floor, and when he finally did, he apologized again and again.

"Okay, okay, I get it," David said. "And believe it or not, I understand. A little. I've had my share of indiscretions with the ladies myself once or twice, but that doesn't make it okay. It simply means I forgive you. Now, let's leave this messy business behind us. What's on the agenda today?"

Art shook a file from his head. "I have a lunch meeting with the suicide prevention council today. I'm really looking to sell myself to them. It'd be a great gig to land."

"Nobody's better at selling you than you," said David cheerfully. "Except maybe me."

"Very true," agreed Art.

"What do you say? Need your publicist with you today? I can be very charming, you know," she flashed her shark teeth.

"I'm good," Art replied. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm pretty sure I've got this." He flashed a toothy smile at her.

"Huh," David mused. "That's not the Art I know."

"You're sure as hell right it's not," Art declared proudly. He picked up David's coffee, brought it to his mouth and drank. "And it's all thanks to you." Her eyes widened, crossing slightly, as Art's forefinger approached the end of her nose. He tapped it playfully. He didn't see the expression on her face as he took her coffee with him to get showered and dressed.