Poison Tongue by Nash Summers Page A

for a swim,” I snapped.
    After a moment of silence, Monroe said, “You can be real nasty, you know that?”
    I glanced at him over my shoulder. I’d never been accused of being nasty, but I knew I had a temper and a sharp tongue. The combination hadn’t exactly made it easy for me to form solid friendships.
    The old floorboards creaked as Monroe sat down on the floor next to me. The fire crackled and swirled. As I stared at it intently, I tried my best not to watch him out of the corner of my eye.
    The lights from the flame swam across his skin, reflecting against his eyes. When he noticed me looking, I forced my gaze back toward the fire. “I sleepwalk.”
    “You try to drown yourself in your sleep often?” His Southern accent peeked through in his voice.
    “Only since you’ve come back to town.”
    A few moments of silence passed between us. They were loaded moments, full of something thick and uneasy. As quiet as they were, I felt like I could hear someone stocking the barrel of a gun. I almost wished I hadn’t said them at all.
    “There’s something wrong with me,” Monroe whispered.
    There was something more than wrong with him. There was something broken inside him, inside his very being, inside his soul.
    But I couldn’t say that now. I couldn’t tell a man who’d pulled me out of the swamp that he was damned and there was nothing short of a miracle that could fix him. Instead I said, “There’s something wrong with me too.”
    He turned his head toward me. The fire cast long, dark shadows across his cheeks. His gaze slid over my drenched T-shirt, my neck, my face.
    “How could there be anything wrong with you?” he asked quietly.
    The unease in my stomach began bubbling. I immediately stood. “I should go.”
    He shot up. “I didn’t mean anything by that.” He began running his fingers through his hair.
    “I know, it’s just—”
    “Fuck, you’re shaking.”
    I couldn’t tell if it was from the dampness of my clothes or the coolness of his eyes, but I felt like my bones were chilled from the inside out.
    Monroe walked to his sofa, pulled a thick fleece blanket from it, and came over to me. Carefully he tossed it over my shoulders, wrapping it around me. I couldn’t help but watch as he did. He was so careful, so gentle, as though he might shatter me if he touched me one wrong way.
    “Better?”
    I nodded. “Yes.”
    “Sit back down in front of the fire. I can’t let you leave when you’re like this. As soon as you warm up, I’ll walk you home. Okay?”
    Again I nodded. “Okay.”
    I sat back down in front of the fire and scooted close, the thick, warm blanket wrapped tightly. Monroe sat down next to me again, farther away this time.
    We watched the fire in silence, unsure of what to say to one another.
    “Your blanket is probably ruined now,” I said. “From the swamp water and the mud.”
    “It’s just a blanket.”
    “So, not your favorite blanket from childhood that you sleep with every night?” I joked.
    He smiled. “Just a blanket. What would you do if it was my favorite blanket and I did sleep with it every night?”
    “Well, I’d take it home and ask my mama to wash it for me. She always seems to know how to get stains out of things.”
    “They’re always good at things like that. Mothers, I mean.”
    I nodded. “It’s like magic. Once, when I was young, I had a charm bracelet that I loved. Well, over time it came completely unraveled. Strings pulling, broken, the ends frayed. I was heartbroken. Practically thought my life was over. I remember my mama asking to see it for one night. Next morning, I woke up to find it almost like new. Magic.”
    “You live at home?”
    “Yeah. I couldn’t bear to leave her and Silvi alone after my mama’s sight began to dim.”
    He leaned back and stretched his legs out. “That must’ve been hard.”
    “Still is. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose my sight. I think I’d go crazy.”
    “I lost my sight