dryer button, Hope stared at the bandage on her wrist. It was crusted with dried blood, an indisputable reminder that no matter how many banana puddings she made or elderly neighbors she brought the paper in for, she was going to burn in Hell one way or another. Here she was thinking about all the guys she’d never loved and lost, when none of it mattered, not the slightest bit. Even the bloodstain on the bandage was in the shape of a lopsided heart, reflecting her entire lopsided life, and Hope was seized with a sudden, inappropriate need to laugh. She wanted to laugh, and laugh, and never stop laughing. Then maybe she could be left alone, in a quiet room, where no one could ever expect anything from her, ever again.
“You’ve been bleeding,” Gabriel said quietly.
Yes, I have, for a long, long time.
She turned on the dryer and lowered her hand, tugging at her sleeve until the gauze was covered. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
“What happened?” he asked again. “Tell me.” His voice was kind, but she didn’t want his kindness.
She shrugged. “I was stupid, that’s all.” Brushing past him, she went into the living room, immediately changing the subject. “When the buzzer goes off your shirt will be done. It shouldn’t take long. You can watch TV while you wait.”
Then she walked to the couch and plopped down on it, but instead of reaching for the remote, she stared blindly toward the window overlooking Mr. Qualey’s rooftop garden. The sweet old man was one the reasons she’d rented the place, actually . . . she could’ve afforded a bigger apartment, but the place was cozy and the neighborhood was nice, and when he’d shown her around he’d been so kind, so fatherly, that she hadn’t bothered to look anywhere else.
“Hope.” Gabriel followed her into the living room. He took a seat in the chair opposite her. “I know something’s troubling you. Tell me what it is. Maybe I can help.”
She turned her head to look at him. The light from the window streamed over the bare skin of his shoulder, catching the glints of gold in his damp brown hair. What in the world would a guy like him ever know about how it felt to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders? What would he ever know about hopelessness and despair?
“It’s none of your business,” she told him bluntly, unwilling to expose any more of herself. “I’ve been going through a rough time, that’s all.”
“Okay.” He took her rebuff with equanimity. “If you can’t talk to me, is there someone else you can talk to?”
She shook her head, wishing he’d stop talking.
“What about your sister?”
Her already racing heart gave a thump. She hadn’t said a word to him about Charity. “What about my sister?” She put hopelessness and despair aside, and sat up straight. “What do you know about Charity?”
“Nothing, really.” He shook his head. “I found a picture on the bathroom floor,” he said. “You two look too much alike to be anything but sisters.”
“Oh.” The picture. The one she hadn’t been able to find once she got home, the one taken by the fountain in Little Five Points the day she’d gotten her computer engineering degree.
A not-so-subtle reminder from Sammy Divine, no doubt, left just where Gabriel would find it.
“You looked happy in that picture,” he told her gently, “but you don’t look happy now.”
“I’m fine,” she said tonelessly, hearing the lie in her words. “I’m just feeling a little . . . weird today, that’s all.”
He glanced again at her wrist. Even though she’d already pulled her shirtsleeves down over the gauze, they both knew the bandage was there. “You hurt yourself on purpose.”
She met his eyes, gold-flecked brown sparked with light from the window.
“You blame yourself for something,” he murmured, and reached out across the small space that separated them to put his hand atop one of hers. “Tell me what it is.”
His skin touched hers, and
“You’ve been bleeding,” Gabriel said quietly.
Yes, I have, for a long, long time.
She turned on the dryer and lowered her hand, tugging at her sleeve until the gauze was covered. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
“What happened?” he asked again. “Tell me.” His voice was kind, but she didn’t want his kindness.
She shrugged. “I was stupid, that’s all.” Brushing past him, she went into the living room, immediately changing the subject. “When the buzzer goes off your shirt will be done. It shouldn’t take long. You can watch TV while you wait.”
Then she walked to the couch and plopped down on it, but instead of reaching for the remote, she stared blindly toward the window overlooking Mr. Qualey’s rooftop garden. The sweet old man was one the reasons she’d rented the place, actually . . . she could’ve afforded a bigger apartment, but the place was cozy and the neighborhood was nice, and when he’d shown her around he’d been so kind, so fatherly, that she hadn’t bothered to look anywhere else.
“Hope.” Gabriel followed her into the living room. He took a seat in the chair opposite her. “I know something’s troubling you. Tell me what it is. Maybe I can help.”
She turned her head to look at him. The light from the window streamed over the bare skin of his shoulder, catching the glints of gold in his damp brown hair. What in the world would a guy like him ever know about how it felt to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders? What would he ever know about hopelessness and despair?
“It’s none of your business,” she told him bluntly, unwilling to expose any more of herself. “I’ve been going through a rough time, that’s all.”
“Okay.” He took her rebuff with equanimity. “If you can’t talk to me, is there someone else you can talk to?”
She shook her head, wishing he’d stop talking.
“What about your sister?”
Her already racing heart gave a thump. She hadn’t said a word to him about Charity. “What about my sister?” She put hopelessness and despair aside, and sat up straight. “What do you know about Charity?”
“Nothing, really.” He shook his head. “I found a picture on the bathroom floor,” he said. “You two look too much alike to be anything but sisters.”
“Oh.” The picture. The one she hadn’t been able to find once she got home, the one taken by the fountain in Little Five Points the day she’d gotten her computer engineering degree.
A not-so-subtle reminder from Sammy Divine, no doubt, left just where Gabriel would find it.
“You looked happy in that picture,” he told her gently, “but you don’t look happy now.”
“I’m fine,” she said tonelessly, hearing the lie in her words. “I’m just feeling a little . . . weird today, that’s all.”
He glanced again at her wrist. Even though she’d already pulled her shirtsleeves down over the gauze, they both knew the bandage was there. “You hurt yourself on purpose.”
She met his eyes, gold-flecked brown sparked with light from the window.
“You blame yourself for something,” he murmured, and reached out across the small space that separated them to put his hand atop one of hers. “Tell me what it is.”
His skin touched hers, and
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