Two Weeks In Miami

CHAPTER FOUR

March 26, 1995 (Sunday)
JULIE'S FOURTH DAY IN MIAMI
HORATIO STAYS BY HIMSELF FOR THE DAY

Julie was the first to wake this morning, followed a few minutes later by Horatio.

She sat sleepily on the edge of the bed, with him behind her, still lying on his right side, caressing her back and shoulders.

"A shower might wake me up," she suggested to herself, stifling a yawn.

"My shower is built for two," he told her. So they took a shower together, and she remained half-asleep through it, her eyes narrowed to slits.

"My little sleeping beauty. Open your eyes." He held her face in his hands as the soapy water cascaded over both of them, and he let his hands trail through her wet hair, and down her slick body.

It was not until she started making breakfast, that she began to wake up.

Horatio walked into the kitchen where Julie stood at the counter buttering a piece of toast while her eggs were frying. His arms snaked around her, his chin lowered onto her head. "About last night--" he said, "WOW! That was great." He was very upbeat, and happy that they had been able to prolong their love-making, with the help of the condom. He was also thrilled with the way she took command, and became the dominant partner throughout the whole love-making session. He straightened her damp hair, curled a tendril behind her ear. Then, he turned her around, took her head in his hands, and kissed her solidly on her forehead.

Julie curled her arms around him with a firm hug, and lay her head on his chest, and stood listening to his heartbeat. Thus they were entwined for a long minute. She began to sag against him again.

"Honey," he said lazily. "I think your eggs are done."

Horatio sat down at the table and began to read the newspaper, while Julie tore into her toast and looked at one of his detective manuals next to her plate. She seemed a little subdued this morning, or off. Neither said much, but both were comfortable with each other's company.

Looking up from his paper, he saw her grimace as she took a bite of her egg. He noticed that she was not her usual peppy self.

"What'sa matter?" He asked, taking a sip from his coffee cup.

She didn't answer right away. In fact, she was quite sore from her gymnastic bedsport of the night before, and was a bit embarrassed to tell him.

"My stomach hurts."

He chided her. "A little early for morning sickness, isn't it?" His offhanded comment caused her eyes to fly open and stare at him.

"No. It is not that. I was over-stimulated."

"Over stimulated? You mean--sexually?"

Julie's eggs were very done, crispy around the edges. But she ate them anyway.

"I will get over it."

"Hm."

"Would you care to explain that?"

"I--I--am a little bit--sore, from last night."

"Sore? Where are you sore?"

"Here." She stood up and put her left hand on her crotch, and between her legs.

"And here." She rubbed her abdomen. "Just on that bone--right there."

He lay his newspaper aside, leaned toward her, and pulled her a little closer to himself. "--ahhhh--" was all he said, in sympathy.

"I was quite active. Wasn't I."

"You were that. Heh-heh-heh."

"I do not know what came over me."

"Well--whatever it was, I liked it."

"Can I see it?"

"No, 'Ratio. It is irritated--and the skin is a bit red." She was quite tender, both inside and out.

"It must have been the sugar." That was all she said.

"Sugar? What sugar?

"Too much of it. And I have had more than my share. These past four days." She sat back down at her place.

His eyes had that curious, I-want-to-know-more look that he was so good at.

"It makes me do things--like become hyperactive."

"Bouncing off the walls? A sugar rush?"

"I feel high, still. It will pass."

"Mm. Too much glucose can cause hyperactivity. Honey, are you hyperglycemic? Are you diabetic?"

"No." She finished the last of her eggs, and placed the dish flat into the sink, then ran water over it.

"I need to get away--go someplace for awhile. I need to calm down, just be alone. By myself."

They separated for the day. He wanted to do some relaxing, some couch-potato stuff, watch a ball game on television, maybe work on his car. She wanted to get out and explore the city.

Five minutes after she left on the bus, he regretted not going with her, but it was too late, she was already gone. He was concerned about her, and desperately wished he had gone along to watch her.

Julie started out with a visit to check on her Cessna Skylane at Miami International Airport. From there, she took the bus to an art gallery and museum, before going to lunch at Oysters Seafood Restaurant. Just down the street from the restaurant was a clothing store, so she went in and bought herself a lovely blue bikini set. She wore it out of the store, under her clothing. The rest of the afternoon was spent on the beach at Coconut Grove, wading in the water, finally going swimming with her brand-new bikini, and photographing sea gulls, turtles, and people in and out of the ocean. She had a lot of fun. Afterward, she put her clothes back on, over her wet swimsuit. Before coming back to Horatio's place, she dined at a small deli on the beach, and enjoyed a fish sandwich and a bottle of Ginger Ale.

Back at the apartment, Horatio thought a lot about her. He thought about her when he was working on his car. She crossed his mind afterwards, when he was washing the car grease off in the bathroom sink. When he fixed his lunch, he imagined her eating with him. She invaded his thoughts when he was watching his Miami Heat basketball game on television. His apartment was too empty without her. He walked down to the beach. He sat, watching the surf. Wished she was with him, right by his side. Wondered where she was now. Regretted not going with her for the day. He walked back to his apartment. At suppertime, he ate alone. This was not what he preferred. Yes, he had told her he wanted to spend the day just relaxing, but he had expected her to be back before now.

He busied himself, cleaning up the apartment a little, standing out by the ledge in front, smoking a cigarette, out back on the patio observing the sunset, watching the gathering dusk. Where was she? She had been gone for hours, and, being a cop, he would have liked to have known what she was up to, and if she was alright.

When Julie returned, the dusk had turned to dark. Horatio was sitting on the sofa, watching television and reading a book. The door was unlocked, and he heard her come in. He looked up from his book, and caught a glimpse of her, as she sprinted across the foyer, down the hall, and into the bedroom without a word, not looking to right or left. He waited, relieved to know that she was safe.

Moments later, Julie emerged from the bedroom in her tomato nightgown, and gingerly walked into the kitchen for cookies and milk. She took four Oreo cookies out of the package sitting on the counter, and opened the refrigerator to bring out a bottle of milk.

She sat the carton of milk on the counter, and her arm accidentally hit it, causing it to fall over on its side, spilling the milk on the counter.

"You stupid cow!" She berated herself for spilling the milk. Grabbing a paper towel off the roll, she dabbed at the milk, trying to clean it up.

Laying his book aside, Horatio came into the kitchen to assist.

"I'm sorry, 'Ratio," she apologized. "I spilled the milk. What a clumsy oaf I am." She threw the wet paper towel away, and pulled another towel off the roll.

"I don't want you to worry about it, okay? I'll take care of it." He helped her wipe it up.

She decided she didn't want any milk after all. "If I am that stupid, that I cannot even get out the milk without spilling it, I do not deserve any." She was unreasonably angry with herself.

Together, they both returned to the living room, and he sat down on the sofa. He did not like her berating herself that way, but he said nothing about it.

She kept two Oreos for herself, and gave him the other two.

He resisted the urge to grill her about what she did today, and where she went.

Instead, he managed a chuckle, and said, looking at her gown, "A little tomato ripe for some squeezin', huh."

"Uh--huh--oh, that." She stood before him, looking down at him on the sofa, one cookie in each hand.

"What is the significance of that?" He sat up, and reaching out, pulled her closer by the front of her nightgown.

"It was a Christmas present from my brother." She licked one of her cookies, and took a bite out of it. "I guess he thought I was lonely." She held up the cookie and squinted at it against the ceiling light.

Horatio put both his cookies aside, on the end table. "Are you lonely?"

"Not now, 'Ratio. Not when I am with you."

His eyes opened wide.

"I won't be lonely again, until I leave." And with that, she crossed her legs and sat herself down in her usual place, right in front of him, with her back to him.

"What--what did you say?"

"I said--I will not be lonely again until I leave." She took another small bite out of her Oreo.

"I--I mean--before that." He looked down, at the top of her head. He noticed her hair had sand in it.

Julie rolled her eyes. "I said--I am not lonely when I am with you. And--I will not be lonely again until I leave." She continued, without missing a beat, "Did you have a good day?"

"As always." He put his hands on her shoulders.

There was no hesitation now, on her part, and no more shivering. She leaned backward, and put her arms back, onto his legs. She hung her head backwards, until she was looking at him upside down. He looked down into her blue eyes, caressing her face and hair.

Julie had no clue that her words had brightened his entire day, and made him feel good about himself, and about life in general.

"Every day is a good day, when you're with me, babe."

She chortled, turned her head back up, and gave her cookie the undivided attention which it deserved, until it was eaten. She twisted the outer covering off her other cookie, and began to lick the white icing inside.

He lifted her nightgown up, and placed his hand on her burn scar, and left it there. She became very still, allowing his hand to stay there.

"Well, I guess your modeling career is over," he whispered.

"That depends on what I am modeling." She blew on the Oreo cookie, spinning it between her fingers.

"Looks like you've had a few scrapes, scars, and bruises along the way."

"I have, 'Ratio." And you have, as well."

"--and--a baby or two?" He thought about her abdominal scar, and the stretch marks around her belly button.

Julie chose not to answer right away, but finally looked up at him with a dismissive nod. "And what about you, "Ratio?"

"What about me?"

"On your back. You look like you were clawed by a tiger." She had noticed that the marks were more recent than his other scars.

"It was--more like a tigress, though."

"But did it not hurt?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Why, then, did you let her do it?"

"I didn't know she was."

"I was--preoccupied. I was into the sex. By the time I knew about it, it was already done."

Julie thought about that for awhile. "It--was not me, was it?" She was really worried, as her dimpled frown indicated.

"No."

"I would never hurt anyone that way." She added, as an afterthought, "And, you cannot do that to me, either."

"I wouldn't do it."

"She was into me, and I was hung up on her."

"And how long ago was this?" She gave him a questioning look.

"A--bout--three weeks ago."

Julie finished her cookie and wiped her fingers against each other.

"Well, if it's any consolation, I'm not seeing her anymore." He reassured her.

"I should hope not."

Julie seemed reluctant to talk about her children, and it seemed she became defensive when he asked. This, of course, tweaked his curiosity even more. He decided to encounter the subject again, cautiously. "So, you've given birth?" It was an honest question, and she saw he was curious, and merely wanted to know her a little better. Julie also sensed that he was not going to let it go, and she saw no real reason to hide it from him, so after considering a moment, she offered, "Aye, it is a scar from cesearean section."

She turned around to him, kneeling, and raised her nightgown up, and they looked at her c-section scar and stretch marks. Then, she surprised him by taking his hand and gently laying it on herself, and holding it there. "And, does that bother you? Are you turned off by it?"

"No, not at all."

She heaved a big sigh, as though relieved.

"Do you own everything in this apartment?" Obviously, she was once again, trying to deflect questions she considered too personal to answer. However, she continued to hold his hand firmly against her belly, and he made no effort to remove it.

"Yes, everything but you, ma'am." They smiled at each other.

"Horatio, is it alright if we do not have sex this night?"

"Yeah, that--um--that's fine. Sweetheart, you okay?"

"Mm hm."

"Still sore?"

"A bit. It stings when I pee, but it is getting better."

"Was the skin broken? You know, you were pretty wild last night."

"No, I do not think the skin was broken. It is--more like a--an internal bruising. But not bad. Just tingly. Like little tiny needles poking me inside. Very sensual, and very stimulating, still." Her tongue moved across her bottom lip. "It is still contracting, I suppose."

"Mm."

He rubbed his eyelid with the tip of his finger. "Piper, you'd let me know--wouldn't you--if--if I were hurting you?"

"Probably."

"If I said yes, you might stop doing it. I do not want you to stop. But I wish you might slow down a little. There is no hurry, and we are not trying to win a race."

"Um--I've always had a hard time--with control." This was not a subject he liked to talk about, and it had come up before, with other women.

"You cannot help it if your willie is large, can you."

"No, but I can take steps to ensure that I am careful--not to cause you discomfort."

"There is sometimes a very thin line between pleasure and pain. If you were truly hurting me, and I could not tolerate the pain, I would certainly let you know."

"You promise?"

"Aye, I do."

"Okay."

He pulled her closer to him so he could encircle her with his arms.

"We are twins."

"What--I don't--" He was puzzled by her statement.

She removed his hands from around her, and raised his shirt up to touch his burn scar. "I thought--at first, this was a birthmark, but now I can see that it is a burn. It is almost the same place as mine." She said it conversationally. She didn't ask, and he didn't volunteer. She didn't seem to expect him to explain it.

They sat in silence for awhile.

"Horatio."

"Piper."

Julie reflected, "Life's lessons can be harsh, can't they."

He was wondering where she was going with this. "Mm. Yes, they can."

"This--scar--on my back--I wear it as a badge of honor. It is a reminder of how mistakes can be made that never should have happened, of how cruel some people can be, and what I hope never happens again."

He didn't say anything, but waited for her to continue.

"Do you want me to tell you what happened?"

"Mm--hm. Yeah, I do."

He waited.

After a silence, she began. "It was in Ireland. Before we came to America. It was my own fault--what happened."

"I wish I had a dime for every time I've heard the victim blame herself--"

"But, 'Ratio, this was different."

Plainly, he did not believe her. "Would you care to explain that, please?"

Julie's brow knitted, as she gathered the words together in her head, and thought about where to begin. Then she said, "sss--someone threw boiling water on me. But I--we--drove her to it."

Horatio gave her his full attention. "Oh? How so?"

She lay her arms on his knees. "When I was about ten--or maybe nine--I started running with a group of children in the neighborhood--they were all older than me--and they were mean."

"An Irish gang, huh."

"We did bad things, like setting haystacks on fire, stealing chickens, turning over potted plants, or taking newspapers off of peoples' porches, things of that sort."

Horatio nodded.

"Even now, it scares me to think of how I was then, and what I was capable of doing."

Horatio waited.

"The oldest was a boy named Simon. He considered himself to be our leader. He was English, of course." Julie snorted in contempt, and then continued. "He was about fifteen, I think. He was not a good person. But, I liked him, and he liked me. I thought he was very good-looking. I wanted to be like him."

"He was cool. He was arrogant. He smoked cigarettes. He was bad."

Horatio nodded, patiently, and looked deeply into her eyes.

"Thanks to our leader, our crimes began to escalate."

"There was this old--elderly woman, and Simon did not like her, because she chased him out of her orchard once, for stealing her apples. And so, we made her our special target. We did things like--uh--pulling the thatch off her roof, turning her cows loose, kicking down her fence, and--well--uh--they told me she was a witch, because she lived alone, and had the healing art."

Horatio snorted in disbelief.

Julie lowered her position to sit cross-legged at Horatio's feet, still facing him.

"And then, one day, I saw Simon's group in her yard, and he--they--were throwing rocks at her windows. I joined them, because it looked like fun. She was afraid. She lived there all alone. One of her windows broke." Julie's voice took on a note of regret. "She opened her door, and she had a pot of boiling water--I guess she had been cooking something over her fire--and one of the rocks hit her--here--above her eye--I seem to remember blood--and she yelled something at us, and flung the kettle of water at us. And, before that, while we were throwing rocks at her house, I remember thinking, this is not right. We should not be doing this. My parents would not want me to do this, and neither would our priest. And so I stopped. I do remember that my back was turned to her when the kettle hit me."

"Sounds like you had parents who cared."

"Well, she tossed the kettle of water at us, and I was the one who got hit--most of it. She gave us warning. She said if we did not leave, she would throw the pot at us. I guess it was her only defense." Julie's face crinkled up, as though she were in pain. "My god, how it did hurt. I remember screaming and rolling around on the ground. And then, the police came, and she got in trouble. But, later, I did, too, and rightly so."

"You were a child. You didn't deserve that kind of punishment--having boiling water thrown on you." Horatio's disapproval was apparent.

"No, she did not just toss the water out. She threw the entire pot at me. And it spilled on me when it hit me. And partly on the kid that was standing next to me. But mostly on me, or so I was told."

"She still would have thrown the pot, even if there had been no hot water in it. It just happened to not be empty. And it was the only weapon she had to defend herself."

"Mm hm."

"My father came and got me, and took me home. He put some aloe on the burn--he did not want to hurt me, but it DID hurt. And I cried a lot. I remember how gentle his hands were, and some of the things he said to me, about being kind to other people. He did not sound angry at all--just disappointed. After we had things sorted out, and I had healed a little, he took me back to her house. And he made me tell her how sorry I was, for what we did. It was the hardest, or maybe one of the hardest--lessons I ever learned."

Julie's eyes were downcast, and she looked at Horatio sadly. "She gave me cookies, and tea, and then she apologized to me, for throwing the hot water on me."

Horatio had been listening with rapt attention, rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb. "I think she could have handled it differently. No child deserves what you say happened to you."

"I am not proud of what we did to her. No, she should have not burned me." Julie shook her head. 'But, we should not have driven her to that point. Where she became that afraid, that she had to defend herself in such a manner. She had done nothing wrong to be so targeted by us."

Julie turned her face to Horatio's and said, "Her name was Maggie Faithfull. I felt terribly bad about what we had done, and I do yet, but she and I developed a friendship that lasted until I left Ireland. It was not until years later, after we had moved to America, that I found out she was family, and then I REALLY felt sick about it." Julie reached her hand back to touch the burn scar on her lower back.

"Family? What--um--what was she to you?"

"She was my father's aunt, or second cousin, or something. I would have to check my paperwork. I have it written down. Even now, I feel ashamed. She was my flesh and blood, Horatio. And I will never, ever treat anyone like that again."

"I hope not."

Julie once more turned her back toward Horatio and relaxed with his arm around her shoulder, and she snuggled against his stomach, and both watched television.

They talked about their day, and about the words to Una Paloma Blanca, which she was having difficulty finding. They talked about why he didn't have a computer. He had computers at work, he explained, and to have one at home, would be too much like taking his work home with him.

"You--you were gone a long time." He ventured, hoping to find out what she did, and where she went, without appearing too intrusive.

"I had a lot of ground to cover, mavourneen."

She freely told him of her adventures that day, mentioning her visit to Miami International Airport, but not saying anything about her Cessna. She brought him up to date on her trip to the art gallery and museum, and her swimming in the ocean with her new blue swimsuit, and the fun she had with the sea gulls.

On her hands and knees, she crawled over to inspect his collection of cds and dvds in the shelf under his television set. She discovered he liked a lot of the same music that she did. Some jazz, classical, early rock, but no country, she noticed. She spoke briefly of her own music collection. All kinds of music, from all over the world, but mainly she liked to collect folk music.

And she thought about the scars on his own body, about the burn on his back, the healed lacerations on his upper back and chest, the long smooth scar on his stomach, but she realized that he had a right to his privacy, and she thought he might tell her when he was ready.

Horatio walked down the hall to the bathroom, and when he came back into the kitchen, he told Julie, "I'm going to the store for milk."

Julie got off the floor and came to stand next to him.

"You wannu come with me, babe?"

"I do not."

After he got back from the store, Horatio mentioned that he wanted to have a nice, home-cooked meal for dinner the next evening, but she told him she was going to a concert tomorrow, and she already bought her ticket a month ago, and it was sold out since about a week ago, otherwise, she would have loved to have him with her. So he told her to enjoy herself there, and they would put a rain check on the home-cooked meal.

She was tired, and wanted to go to bed, but decided to shower first, to get the sand out of her hair. After her shower, they went to bed. The night was hot, so she left her nightgown off.

"Horatio?"

"Mm hm."

"Will you let me hold you tonight? I no not want sex, but I do want to feel me around you. Will you do that?"

"Sure will, sweetheart. For as long as you like."

She showed him how she wanted him to lay, just so, arranging his arms and legs, with his back to her, while she carefully wrapped herself up next to him, her breasts pressed firmly into his back as she put her arm around him, with her face pressed into the back of his neck. She fell asleep before he did. As he lay there in the dark, it was all he could do not to lose control, and turn over, and start kissing her, but remembering her soreness, he restrained himself. Eventually, he went to sleep.

END OF CHAPTER FOUR