On the edge

Chapter 9: Ó Raghallaigh

A week went by, and neither James nor Sue lost a word about that afternoon or the night that had followed. It was as if they both had completely forgotten what had been said, and what had happened. Waking up alone surely had answered a lot, if not all, of the questions James could possibly have had intended to ask. Yet, from that following Monday on, he would no longer greet Sue with a nervous grin but a kiss instead. He leant over the counter and placed his lips on hers, ever so gently, and kissed her tender; so tender, like a snowflake settles down, once it has reached where it longs to be. And Sue melted away under the warmth of his poetic words when he quietly whispered, "Lead me, for you have saved me from my solitude..."
By the end of the week, Sue eagerly awaited noon, so that she could write another poem with her lips on his, and leave nothing but a little taste of their sweet secret behind; watch James take away with him a little piece of herself, every time he left. And she knew that the dark and bitter longing she felt would be his darling innocence's undoing.
"Am I a horrible person?" Sue asked herself almost every night, as she stared at the ceiling in the dark.
She had not intended to use him in some, any way at all; as a diversion, a kind of amusement, or a pastime. It had just happened. But Sue would have lied, had she pretended that he did not distract and amuse her, although in a way very different from what she had expected. A very pleasing way indeed.
James had only mentioned the canoe issue as a side note during one of their conversations.

"I must have forgotten to lock the shop," he had presumed, "Since there were no signs of a forceful invasion."
Weird," was all Sue had said, trying to comment the story as little as possible.
The less she said, the less she was likely to trip over her own words.
"Weird indeed," James had agreed, and he still wondered who would do such a strange thing as to break into an establishment to steal something, only to leave almost twice as much money on the counter as the item had been intended to be sold for.
He had quickly dismissed the thought and then asked Sue if she cared for dinner at his place.

"Sure," the red-haired had agreed with a nod.
"I'm busy today," she had said regretfully, "But maybe tomorrow?"
"Sure," James had agreed.
"Unfortunately I'm not much of a great cook, but if Pasta's alright with you... With tomato sauce," he had said and tried to casually laugh off the fact that he had just told her, in some way, that his diet was rather poor and consisted mostly of carbohydrates and very finely minced tomatoes.
"Totally," Sue accepted willingly.
"I can be there by half past seven," she continued, "I'll bring desert."
James smiled agreeing and happily at her; kissed her once more time, and left with his bottle of mineral water. And as she watched his light and cheerful steps carry him down the street, Sue couldn't help and quietly smirked at the sight. She felt herself losing ground and fall a bit deeper; and all the denying and reasoning couldn't silence her heart; it sung the most beautiful aria; of tender feelings, as spring approached, and the sweet, sweet love that blossomed and bloomed inside of her. 

"Well, well, Stephen," Sue had sighed heavily under his weight, as she had pulled one of the bags, containing his remains, out of her deep freezer.

"I think it's time for our ways to part," she had said and carried the dead man's two legs to the backyard.

She had somehow managed to fasten the canoe to the top of the silver greyish city car, using several belts and straps, without scratching it up; something Sue still considered a true accomplishment itself.

His head, arms, and torso had followed Stephen's legs into the boot of her car; the bronze statue, buckets, and mobs had gone to the backseat, and when Sue had started the engine, she had taken one last deep breath. There had been no more going back.