"What are you so afraid of, anyway?" Jenn asked him. "You can run away from bad guys, dodge bullets--well, some of them, but the moment you mention going back home, you look like you're about to vomit."
"Thanks for that lovely imagery," said Vitus. "Really, there are just some things I don't want to face right now. You know how it is, right? Doesn't everyone react the same way when they have some skeletons in the closet--or inner demons hiding under the bed?"
Jenn, however, was not paying attention. "Is your family still there? What are your parents like?" she asked.
"Dead, mostly. That's actually one of the things I don't want to face. Thanks, though."
"Oh, God," said Jenn, instantly mortified by her own words. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Vitus. I didn't know. I didn't even know you had a family. Well, I mean, I knew you had a family because everyone... oh, God, I'm babbling. I'm babbling, and I'm very, very, very sorry."
"It's okay. Really."
"Is there anything else you want to tell me before I put my foot in my mouth again?" she asked.
"I also had a dog that died when I was a boy," said Vitus.
"Gotcha. I'll stay away from families and pets."
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what?" Jenn asked.
"For everything. For dragging you into this whole mess in the first place. I just realized that I've never told you that I'm sorry."
"Don't be," she replied. "In a weird, masochistic sort of way, I'm having fun. Plus, this whole thing is really giving us a chance to get to know each other better." Indeed, it did. Like two survivors swept into the ocean, they clung to each other with their desperate hopes and desires, unwilling to let go and unsure if those feelings would remain when they eventually came ashore.
"Then I'm glad you're here," said Vitus.
"Me too." The conversation threatened to become awkward, so with a single question, Jenn unknowing switched their focus to an even more uncomfortable topic. "How's your shoulder?"
"It hurts when I think about it. The painkillers are very nice, though," he replied. "How are you? You've seemed a little more quiet since the shootout."
"Honestly, I've tried not to think about it much," said Jenn. Though no matter how hard she tried to push the memories from her mind, she could think of nothing else. The pain came in rapid succession, like two quick beats of a drum. Again she saw the Russian with his pointed gun. She saw him die when she pulled her trigger. She'd taken a life. Again she saw Vitus stumbling, helpless, and falling into the water below. Those were two things she never wanted to see again and the two things that would haunt her dreams that night. Still, she hid her pain away where no one could see it--not even Vitus.
They looked out over the side of the boat as Bess traveled up the river. The banks on either side were lined with large houses and marinas, trophies for the wealthy to enjoy. It reminded Vitus very little of the river he knew as a boy. Back then, he was Huckleberry Finn, steering an old raft down the mighty Mississippi, but now they had both been tamed. Tristesse waited for him on the riverbank ahead, and he wondered if it would be the same place he remembered.
"Thanks for that lovely imagery," said Vitus. "Really, there are just some things I don't want to face right now. You know how it is, right? Doesn't everyone react the same way when they have some skeletons in the closet--or inner demons hiding under the bed?"
Jenn, however, was not paying attention. "Is your family still there? What are your parents like?" she asked.
"Dead, mostly. That's actually one of the things I don't want to face. Thanks, though."
"Oh, God," said Jenn, instantly mortified by her own words. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Vitus. I didn't know. I didn't even know you had a family. Well, I mean, I knew you had a family because everyone... oh, God, I'm babbling. I'm babbling, and I'm very, very, very sorry."
"It's okay. Really."
"Is there anything else you want to tell me before I put my foot in my mouth again?" she asked.
"I also had a dog that died when I was a boy," said Vitus.
"Gotcha. I'll stay away from families and pets."
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what?" Jenn asked.
"For everything. For dragging you into this whole mess in the first place. I just realized that I've never told you that I'm sorry."
"Don't be," she replied. "In a weird, masochistic sort of way, I'm having fun. Plus, this whole thing is really giving us a chance to get to know each other better." Indeed, it did. Like two survivors swept into the ocean, they clung to each other with their desperate hopes and desires, unwilling to let go and unsure if those feelings would remain when they eventually came ashore.
"Then I'm glad you're here," said Vitus.
"Me too." The conversation threatened to become awkward, so with a single question, Jenn unknowing switched their focus to an even more uncomfortable topic. "How's your shoulder?"
"It hurts when I think about it. The painkillers are very nice, though," he replied. "How are you? You've seemed a little more quiet since the shootout."
"Honestly, I've tried not to think about it much," said Jenn. Though no matter how hard she tried to push the memories from her mind, she could think of nothing else. The pain came in rapid succession, like two quick beats of a drum. Again she saw the Russian with his pointed gun. She saw him die when she pulled her trigger. She'd taken a life. Again she saw Vitus stumbling, helpless, and falling into the water below. Those were two things she never wanted to see again and the two things that would haunt her dreams that night. Still, she hid her pain away where no one could see it--not even Vitus.
They looked out over the side of the boat as Bess traveled up the river. The banks on either side were lined with large houses and marinas, trophies for the wealthy to enjoy. It reminded Vitus very little of the river he knew as a boy. Back then, he was Huckleberry Finn, steering an old raft down the mighty Mississippi, but now they had both been tamed. Tristesse waited for him on the riverbank ahead, and he wondered if it would be the same place he remembered.
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