‘I wanted to die. It was so ugly and sore, and there was blood all over the rag rug that I had to get a cloth and wipe up. It left a big brownish stain that glared at me every time I walked past. I cried and cried and tried to scrub myself clean for days.’ She looked at him as if there were a big confession coming now. ‘He was the son of the mailman. It happened on holiday, while my parents were out skiing. Here, in front of this fire.’ She waited for Sam to be horrified. He put his head back and laughed lightly. Her heart lifted as she watched his face crease, and she laughed too. ‘Does it ruin the fireside for you?’

‘No, but it’ll make me horny every time I poke the logs.’

‘I told Mom and Dad I’d spilled coffee on the rug. They believed me.’

They laughed again and it felt so delicious to forget her fear and confusion for a moment that she was lightheaded with the release. Then she caught sight of the coffee stains on the wall where Sam had smashed Gerry’s mug, and spoiled it.

‘Now you.’

Sam’s face crumpled. So those were her dark confessions. Jesus. So innocent and simple. What would she make of his life? Sam rubbed at the cuts on his face. Maybe he should find out.

This woman was his life now. She was everything. The past had already burst through, and it was pounding him to a pulp with its dark fetid force. Making him act like a crazy.

What if he were to share some of it with her? He had always thought that to let it through, to think of it for a moment would destroy him. That somehow the past would sneak up and grab away everything happy and whole and good he had, that it would rip off his mask to the world and shout, Ha! You see the scumbag that Sam Hunting Wolf is really? Don’t expect him to show at the next Silver Cancer Foundation Bowling tournament folks, ’cause he’s not the nice guy you all thought he was. He’s a piece of shit masquerading as a family man. A stinking scummy INDIAN!

Well it was happening now anyway, wasn’t it? What difference would it make if she knew the foul stock her husband came from? She was still at his feet, watching his face contort, her hand brushing his thigh to soothe him. She spoke quietly.

‘I’m Katie Hunting Wolf. We both know that now.’

He nodded.

‘So who were your family, Sam? Tell me.’

His family. His family were here in this house. There had never been any others. Not really. He closed his eyes, took hold of her hand and let his head rest on the back of the chair. She waited.