The Shore by Robert Dunbar

Author:Robert Dunbar [Dunbar, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Speculative Fiction
ISBN: 9781428513365
Publisher: DP
Published: 2007-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“Your lips are practically blue.”

The drawer coughed open in a snarl of socks and shirts, one glove, a ski mask.

“What are you looking for? Perry? Answer me.”

The boy’s glance skimmed in her direction. She still wore the same old sweater she’d had on for days, all stretched out and soft-looking. If she could stand up, it would hang to her knees, but now it had twisted itself around her, the neck pulled so that one pale shoulder poked through. He looked away. “I can’t find that jogging suit with the hood, you know, the blue one.”

“That’s because it’s such a mess in here.” She forced herself not to tug against the ropes. From where he’d positioned her chair, she could just see a corner of the mirror. She found she couldn’t look away from the snarl of her hair, the puffy flesh, the way her complexion took on an almost greenish hue in this light.

“What’s the matter?” he demanded. “What? How come you’re staring like that?”

She made herself face him. “You’ve lost more weight. And those pants are too short now.”

“So?” His frayed flannel shirt wouldn’t stay tucked in. He’d made additional holes in his belt with a nail, and the extra length of it dangled from his belt loop.

“You should let me help you straighten up. Perry, did you hear me?”

He didn’t answer, but a moment later he began picking things up off the floor and tossing them into the bathroom, quickly creating a heap of soiled clothing. Then he shoved a different heap into the closet and slammed the door. “I’ll straighten up and stuff,” he muttered, his eyes slanting to the bed. For a moment, he struggled to smooth it into shape. “I’m so achy.” He sprawled on the wrinkled bedspread. “The backs of my legs feel frozen.” He turned onto his back and stared down the length of his jeans at her, while he tried to push down the rumpled corner of the bedspread with his foot.

“You were out too long,” she told him. “You should let me make the bed.”

He peered at her uncertainly, bunching up the sheets with one hand so she wouldn’t see the stains.

“You’re such a boy. Please, let me. This place needs a good cleaning.”

He turned his head as though watching something beyond the walls. She was accustomed to that look, to that strange attention to a world beyond the one she could see. She even knew he might suddenly resume speaking an hour from now as though no pause had taken place. She knew too many things.

He turned over on his stomach and mumbled something into the pillow.

“What? Perry, what?”

He barely lifted his face. “I said it’s clean enough.”

“You can trust me. Where could I go?” She saw his hand tighten around the bedpost. “You can untie me.”

Propping himself on one elbow, he turned and stared, calculating. “Maybe later. I got to wash your hair again. I’ll heat up some water.”

“It’s all right.”

“Such long hair.”

“Your fingernails are filthy.”

“Such a pretty color.

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