Becalmed. This was the tableau that could be seen from above by God and from the left and right and centre by the human element. Ever broke the silence and said,

‘Sorry.’

Lomita came forward, with all the strength that her pained body could muster she helped him to his feet, they walked into her bedroom, the urine dripped off his body, she took him to her shower and turned it on, he walked into the storm of water, she followed him in to offer support in spite of her fragility, her robe was immediately darkened by the stream of water.

Her tiny frame held him, the water washed them both as one, and made their understanding of each other be as one.

His erection returned for her and he lifted her around his waist, her robe parted and without a willingness or a resistance from her, he entered her, and she cried and cried. Neither of them moved a muscle.

The water was washing away the sins of the world; they had both been more sinned against than sinning.

He came inside Lomita.

Chapter Twenty-two

Emotional exhaustion had taken them into a morning sleep.

That they were now awaking from, the positions of their bodies were the same as the last time they lay together, side by side, adopting their own independence, yet grateful for the proximity. He lay flat out on his back. When they came to, she just said, matter-of-factly,

‘When exactly is the Basquiat exhibition? And when would you like to view your father’s work?’

He could say very little, except,

‘Two days’ time and as soon as. Thank you.’

And then,

‘When did I tell you about it?’

Her story would take a retelling.

*

She stood from the bed and felt his sperm dried and sticky.

It had trickled from her vagina onto the inside of her right thigh and a memory returned. This was only the second time she could remember being filled with semen. The first time, so overpowering in its horror, took away any potential joy this might have held.

She went into the bathroom but before wiping between her legs with a wetted towel, immersed her fingers into herself and smelt them; the smell produced no sensation in her; she then tasted her fingers and an intensity of memory returned.

The taste.

This was such an emotional experience for her that again an objectivity kicked in, a cut-out button, and turned the act into an almost solely practical event. Clean and protect. She walked calmly out of the bedroom to the kitchen, with an announcement regarding food that received a response in the negative from him.

He was unaware she had been crying; she had found it difficult to be entirely practical. She had wanted his sperm, it had been taken with love, for the first time.

She would have wanted it, she couldn’t imagine how much, if the time had been right.