Hot, Wet & Soapy
By Roger Arsht
Richard had cleared the table and was rinsing the dishes when Annie came in the galley. She leaned her head against his back and put her arms around his waist.
“I told you; I’m doing the dishes tonight.”
“I came to thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Richard turned within her hold and tipped his head downward to kiss her passionately.
Gently pushing him away, Annie picked up a dish towel. “I can’t let you do them alone. You wash and I’ll dry.”
“I said it was my turn. Having you help me changes everything.”
“You’re right,” Annie responded with a mischievous smile. “However, if you’re here alone you’ll stay dry. We’re going to get wet, hot, and soapy.”
Smiling and laughing, Richard and Annie walked to the outer deck. Alex, Ed, and Cathy were finishing their coffee. Lina was asleep on Cathy’s lap. The three were taken aback by the vision of the couple dripping wet and laughing like children. Richard and Annie said their goodnights and headed for the lower level of the yacht.
Annie and Richard were already undressing before they reached their staterooms. “My room or yours?” Annie asked with a smile.
“Yours,” Richard answered quickly.
“Why not yours?” Annie asked.
“I’m not ready. You have been asking me to make changes in my life. I appreciate that and I am doing my best. You brought a dog into my life. You’ve moved me off my privileged authoritarian throne.” Richard hesitated before finishing his thought. “I’m not ready to break down all of the barriers I've erected.”
Annie smiled and pulled the half-dressed man into an embrace. “You know…you’re right.” Annie kissed him, grabbed him by his belt buckle, and pulled him into her room.
Annie wasn’t one of those people who fell asleep after sex. The experience energized her. She knew she would spend at least an hour examining images in her head of how they respectively reacted during their lovemaking. She wanted to know what worked and what seemed awkward so she could improve the experience for both of them the next time. When she was done with the sexual post-mortem, she replayed the events of the day in her mind. She had bought a dog, fixed some machinery, made dinner, chastised Richard, helped to dry the dishes, and had just enjoyed, what she had to admit, was damn good sex. Then she wrapped herself in her bathrobe and headed to the now empty salon. She poured herself a glass of amaretto from the bar before returning to her stateroom.
When she returned, Richard was thrashing in bed and talking in his sleep. She thought about waking him until she heard him call out the name of his late wife. Annie sat on the upholstered bench at the end of the bed and listened to his ramblings.
“It’s not all about me…” he mumbled. “I don’t…control everything...” There was a short break before he continued again. “There’s room…for you…there’s time to make…” Again, a short pause. “The doctors can make…change…there are other ways…” Even though Richard stopped ranting, he continued to try and free himself of the sheets and blanket.
Annie pressed the button to summon Ed. Within a minute, Ed arrived and took Richard to his room. As they were leaving, Ed said to Annie, “I’ll come back in a few minutes. I need to know what he said in his sleep.”
Upon returning, Ed said, “What can you tell me?”
Annie repeated what she could remember. “What was that all about? It sounds like Richard and Kimberley were having problems.”
“Yes,” Ed said firmly. “However, it’s more complicated than that. Richard wonders if the way he treated Kimberley led to her death. I’m sorry to be so direct.
“What did he do?” Annie asked. “Do you know?”
“Not exactly,” Ed exhaled deeply. “He needs professional help. I’m doing my best but I’m afraid the trauma runs deeper than what I originally thought.”
“That’s not an answer to my question.” Annie could see that she had struck a nerve with the usually implacable Captain Ed.
“You don’t have to stab someone to kill them. Murder of that type is rare. What isn’t unusual is how people chip away at their partner’s esteem. They diminish the things the other person cares about. They withhold their affection and attention until the other person feels isolated and abandoned. A quick, painful death could be preferable to a slow, anesthetized one.”
“If what you’re suggesting is true, then it sounds like he needs therapy. Has he resisted?”
Ed nodded his head. “He’s very attached to his new identity as a writer. He enjoys living in a fantasy world where he controls who gets hurt, who lives, who dies, and for what reasons. There was nothing imaginary about the way Kimberley and Wheels died.”
“He uses writing a defense mechanism?” Annie asked.
Ed silently contemplated Annie’s question before answering. “As much as it pains him to fall into despair, he also relishes the wealth and attention his fame brings him. Those two things insulate him from the pain he feels and in a demented way, justify his depressive periods. Writing, for Richard, is cathartic. He thinks he can find his way out of the darkness by writing about the trauma when in fact, he kind of prefers the darkness."
“That’s…crazy sauce.” It was the best Annie could do. She was still processing everything that had happened in the last few minutes.
“You’re right.” Ed looked directly into Annie’s eyes. “What I fear for you is that you’ve come into his life at the wrong time. He might not be ready for you. Worse, there’s another problem. He’s deeply attached to his life as a writer.”
“He’s done very well.”
“Too well. More problematic is that he only writes when he’s in his depressive state. To lose that might mean he won’t be able to write. Hence, the resistance to seeing a professional.”
“What about medication?” I asked.
“He won’t entertain it. Not for a second.”