Burned

25

            The summer Parisian morning filtered into the room the next day. Alfie was fast asleep on his stomach, his arm thrown over Louise's bare stomach. She smiled tiredly and stroked her husband's back. Her fingernails grazed lightly over the planes of his muscles and each vertebra of his spine. She traced up to his shoulder blades and paused when she came across an unfamiliar mark.

On first glance, it appeared to be an abrasion but she realized it was something wrong with the skin and not an external wound.

Alfie began to stir underneath her touches. "'Mornin' Mrs. Solomons." He murmured in a gravely voice.

"Alfie, what is this on your shoulder?" She asked, too concerned to reply to the greeting.

He seemed to know exactly what she was talking about because he didn't become alarmed. He merely shut his eyes again. "S'nothing."

"Alfie..." She warned him before he tried to sweep it under the rug.

"Just psoriasis." He muttered, kissing her shoulder to try and distract her.

"You saw a doctor?" His wife didn't give the subject up.

"Yes."

"Really?" She raised an eyebrow. Alfie would never go to a doctor unless she'd force him. She wasn't even sure he would go if he had a bullet in his chest. "When? Who did you see?"

It was clear Alfie wasn't going to win this battle. He couldn't lie to her because she'd see right through him, or worse, she'd go to fact check his claims. "No, I didn't. But that's probably what it is, can't imagine it's anything else." He turned over onto his back, blocking her view of the mark.

"What if it's cancer?" She asked with worry heavy in her hazel eyes.

He never liked seeing her so concerned over him. "It ain't cancer."

"Alfie, you don't know that unless you go to a doctor." She urged. "Please, we can go home early..."

"Lou, m'not cutting our fucking honeymoon short because of a little welt." He interrupted her. "I promise, s'nothing serious. Now c'mon, I think we should pick up where we left off last night." His arms wrapped around her waist to bring her close again.

Louise didn't look to be in the mood. She chewed on her lower lip, not brushing aside her concern like her husband did.

He grazed his lips over her neck but she turned away from him to refuse the advance. "Lou..."

She swallowed and forced a smile. "I just have to go to the bathroom." She replied and pecked him on the cheek before standing up. "I'd like to go to the Louvre today. Will you take me after breakfast?"

Alfie propped himself up on his elbow to watch her slip on a dressing gown. "Yeah, 'course love." He agreed quietly. There was no ignoring the worry in her eyes. He'd been so sure he could hide it from her despite being on their honeymoon. It was most likely cancer, he knew that. Lots of men from the war came back with it because of the gas. The gangster was not afraid of death, even a painfully slow one like skin cancer. But he was terrified of the effects it might have on his wife. Cancer wasn't like the other dangers in his life. He could disarm the disease or just walk away from it. But he'd hold on as long as possible to give Louise the life she deserved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Louise wouldn't let go of Alfie. She made sure his arm never slipped from hers as they walked slowly through the grand museum. If he moved one way, she followed. He could sense her growing dread. She spent less time at each painting the longer they remained at the museum. She appeared preoccupied, her eyes only focused on one part of the paintings, not studying it as she might have done before.