Unknown Diners

Chapter Eleven

"So where do we start?" Lorne asked as they finished the sushi and the remainder of the Champagne.

"We can lie in bed and cuddle and talk."

They lay silently, wrapped in each other under the duvet. After a few minutes, Catherine said softly, "Don't even need to talk. Just be together. Relax and allow our spirits to merge. Know we're here for each other. Safe, protected, loved."

They remained silent for a long while as Lorne thought. Why am I so afraid of looking at this? Connolly's dead. He can't hurt me anymore. I no longer have to deal with the church lawyer or that psychiatrist, Doctor Frick... Doctor Sick, the sick-aitrist. He laughed.

"What's funny?" she asked, kissing his shoulder.

"Doctor Sick, the sick-aitrist. His name was Frick, but sick was more appropriate."

"Frick... So that's where your curse word comes from, the one I've adopted. Frick the fricking sick sick-aitrist."

"That's good. I hadn't thought of that one. Fricking sick, he had to have been. He contorted reality in his testimony. Contrived twisted lies with the church lawyer, nearly convinced the court I was making up the whole thing. He damned near convinced the judge I was a self-abusing, mutilating pervert. He played Connolly as a gentle, saintly man. I again feared for my life, thinking they'd get Connolly off. He now knew where I was."

She rubbed the back of his head and snuggled her face into his chest. "He's dead now. You no longer have anything to fear."

He wiggled his body more tightly to hers. She wiggled tighter still, and they lay silent for another long while.

Lorne wandered back through his memories, slowly sorting and sifting. He started quietly speaking. "Mine was always big compared to other boys. Then with adolescence, it grew... A lot. In the school showers, I gained the names Allcock, and Hunguy. Father Connolly was often in locker room talking with us when we changed into and out of gym or sports strip. After Mum and Dad died, he applied to be my foster parent. The system didn't question the Church then. It certainly does now."

She squeezed him tighter, rubbed her face into his chest and kissed it, remaining silent as she waited. Waited a long time. Waited patiently.

"The fucking pervert shackled me to the floor." Lorne started convulsing in deep sobs, between them blurting, "Fucking pervert... God damned psycho... Christ's fucking representative? What fucking crap... Satan's servant suits better..."

Lorne's ranting convulsions continued as Catherine gently stroked the back of his head and murmured almost to herself, "Let it out, let it go... Free yourself... It's gone... It's behind you. You're safe, protected, loved... I love you... You're such a beautiful creature. I love you, Lorne... Let it all out."

She awoke a long while later from an urge to pee and looked across to the bulkhead clock. 0142. She tried to untangle without waking him, but he reached up and rubbed her back as she rose to begin sidling toward the edge of the bed. She turned and kissed him, put a hand on his cheek, moved it to his ear and played. "We've slept. It's quarter to two — gotta pee. Don't go away, I'll be right back."

He shook the sleepiness away in time to enjoy her kiss and her gentle strokes. "Did I miss anything?" He laughed. "The last thing I remember was my blue language and... Was that stuff really coming from me?"

"That's the first time I've ever heard you use anything stronger than effing or frick. You're getting to be normal." She smiled at him, stroked his cheek and bent to kiss him, grazing her breasts across his chest as she did. "Gotta pee."