For Shits and Giggles [2024]

Chapter 30

"Hun, I'm home," Paola called out, kicking her outside shoes off at the door, then stepping into her house slippers. She dropped her bags onto the kitchen counter, then immediately moved to the kitchen sink. The dishes had already been done. She removed her disposable, vinyl gloves and threw them into the trash which had been recently emptied, then washed her hands. Then, she washed them again.

"I brought takeout, and some leftovers from the bakery," she called to her husband over the running water.

Henry was sprawled on the couch in the living room, watching a show he'd promised Paola he wouldn't start without her. As soon as he heard her keys in the front door, he switched off the TV. Henry used his toe to press the OFF button on the remote— he'd gotten very skilled with his feet, moreso than the average person at least.

He was a bilateral amputee; both of his arms were amputed at the elbows after a freak accident at work had left him in a brief coma. Paola nursed him back to health, kept up his moral, supported him while he learned to use his feet for some things, his stubs for others. That Christmas she converted their entire house into a smart home. With just his voice, he could control lights, lock doors, open blinds, start the coffee maker, and even create shopping lists on his phone and send them to their printer. Sure, that particular Christmas was funded entirely by the settlement money he'd won after the accident, but it was the best damned Christmas Henry had ever had. The most thoughtful.

After the accident it was hard for Henry to feel dignified. He couldn't eat, shit, or shower on his own. It was hard for him to feel fully there. But Paola never gave up on him. She didn't allow him to sulk or sink deeper into his depression. She helped him regain his independence, and never once saw him as less of a person. These days, Henry was fully self sufficient. He could do most things on his own. Except he and Paola still enjoyed daily showers together—not out of necessity, but purely by choice. It was a routine that started after Henry's surgery, but soon it became their oasis. Here they felt the closest and most intimate.

It was the only place Paola felt clean enough to have sex. She couldn't stand the saliva that came from heavy make out sessions, the several fluids involved in love making were no longer lewd or erotic. Instead they were gross, sticky, and distracting. She hated sex, she hated hating sex. She missed enjoying her partner's body, she wanted to crave his body as much as she had craved it before the curse. They'd found the shower was the perfect escape. Under running water, sex was no longer dirty or unsettling. It was cathartic, and sensual. Carnal. Besides, Handy suspected Paola felt better if she was the one to clean him before and after the act.

"You're kidding," he called back to her in the kitchen.

"I'm not," Paola walked into the living room smiling her usual smile after the kitchen had met her cleanliness expectations, "I got Thai! And cheese danishes for des–" Paola's eyes landed on the coffee table in front of Handy, a giant half pepperoni, half cheese pizza staring her right in the face.

"I got takeout too," he looked at her. She looked at him.

They laughed at the same time.

"You should've told me," she giggled, walking over and setting her takeout bags on the coffee table next to the pizza.

"I wanted to surprise you!"

"With pizza?" She raised her eyebrow, giving him an incredicous look. Pizza, although a former favorite, had quickly sunk to the bottom of Paola's list of favorites. As had most finger foods. It was greasy and messy, and the only way she could eat it now was with a knife and fork.

"Hey, I dabbed the oil off with a napkin like you showed me," he defended, giving her an infamously coy grin. There was a plastic knife and plastic fork next to the pizza box, which Handy had set out especially for Paola, along with a fresh pair of vinyl gloves. There was a drugstore box of red wine and two sparkling clean glasses. How could she ever be mad at him?

Paola shook her head, and laughed. "Fine. But I'm still having my summer rolls... did you change your outside clothes before sitting on the couch?"

"Of course," he reached forward, resting his stumps on Paola's hips. "But... if you're not feeling pizza, I know something else I'm craving," Handy smirked again, pulling Paola into him. She lost her footing and landed squarely on his lap. She tried to push him away, laughing, but he held her there.

"Oh, stop it! I still have my outside clothes on," she giggled, Handy planted several dry kisses on her neck and jaw, on her shoulders and exposed collarbone. She finally freed herself and scrambled back to her feet. Handy chuckled and let her up, sinking back into the couch with his elbows spread out casually over the backrest.

Paola straightened out the fresh wrinkles on her dress, turning around toward the stairs. Before sitting on any furniture, aside from the plastic chairs the two had bought for temporary guests, she had to change into inside clothes. And before she could change into inside clothes, she had to shower. She feigned a stern look. "And don't think I didn't hear the TV earlier. You're in trouble."

"Guilty," he acquiesced. "But listen, hun..."

"Yeah?" Paola turned to him.

"I know you've said to drop it, but it's been on my mind all day."

"Babe..."

"I'm serious. What Dr. Sny did to you, it's not right."

"There's nothing we can do," Paola looked down at her hands, they closed into fists. "Sheriff Lotto was in on it."

"Yeah but... what about Santiago, isn't that his whole thing? Fucking up the bad guys?"

"Trust me, Santiago beat him up something fierce. And the Sheriff too while he was at it. But you know how it goes. No jail, no permanent consequences."

"There has to be something we can do."

"Well, if Gracie would quit being so selfish we could break the curse and punish them for real."

Henry didn't say anything.

"I'm going to shower," Paola said finally.

"Wait."

"What?" She said, growing slightly impatient.

"Hun... I love you, so much. More than you know. But you're wrong about this."

Paola glared at him from across the room.

"Something just isn't right," he continued. "You have to help them find her."

"She doesn't want to be found," Paola argued. "She doesn't deserve to be found! You know what she did to Fior."

"I do. I also know she's your best friend."

"Was."

Henry shook his head, sighed. "If not for her, then for everyone else. Like it or not, we need her."

"We don't need her," Paola frowned, raising her voice. "Everyone we need is right here. You, me, and..." her voice trailed away, and she wrapped her arm around the small, barely noticable bump on her stomach.

"We don't need her for anything."

Henry stood up and walked over to her. He rested the inside of his elbows on her waist, pulled her into him. Paola held back a sob, burying her face into his neck.

"I know my love, I know," he planted a kiss on the top of her head. "But without Gracie, we can't meet our little one. And I want to, just as much as you."

Paola didn't say anything. She blinked away her tears, but stayed buried in his body; her chest against his chest, her face against his neck. She knew he was right, but in this moment she just wanted to be held. Shower be damned.