Days of Love and Blood

face, causing the involuntary stretching reflex. As soon as I stuck out my legs and moved my body, I became aware of the heavy arm draped over me. I was lying on my side and Cooper was behind me, holding me into him. I didn’t remember rolling over. For the first time in months, I slept hard and sound and without waking up every hour. Cooper wasn’t awake yet. My rustling didn’t cause the slightest stir or twitch in his body.
    I lay next to him for a little while and indulged in my luxuries, however fleeting and pretend they were. The sound of his breath through his open mouth - it was steady and rhythmic. The warm breath on my neck - I could tell that his lips were close and the thought of them gave me a private, guilty pleasure. His warm body pressed against me - spooning me, protecting me. His strong arm around me - I couldn’t stop looking at the soft, pale hairs against his tan skin. The smell of his skin and sweat. It felt normal, it felt good. I missed that feeling.
    The smug contentment didn’t last. Two thoughts suddenly converged and smashed through my daydreams, flinging my eyes open with their awful truths: this was temporary and Ritchie was gone forever. I leaned into my pillow and smothered my face as my mouth wrenched open in an uncontrollable, silent wail. I tensed my body and let the pain flow out without making a sound so that Cooper wouldn’t wake.
    When my release was over, I was quickly taken over by conflicting temptation. I wanted to roll over and bury my face in Cooper’s chest while putting my arm around his waist. Nothing more than that. Only to wake him, have him feel me against him - feel my lips against his skin, have him hold me a little while longer. But I pushed it away and carefully slid out from under his arm. When I stood up, I stilled myself and listened to his breath. There was no change to its steadiness. He was still asleep.
    I pulled the long silk robe that hung from the bed post and wrapped it around me. I walked to the door while tying the robe and glanced out the window along the way. I stopped and took a step back. Something had moved out in the field, something large and shadowy against the pale green background. The shifting mass was still there. I tiptoed over to the window to get a better view. It was a horse. A pale horse. And he was busy grazing on the lawn.
    I quickly left the room and stepped lightly down the stairs. I didn’t bother to put my shoes on and left the house in only my nightclothes. I wanted to get a good look at this horse.
    The homicidals never took their wrath out on animals. At least, I never saw them do it. On one of our first stops while Ronan and I were en route, a long-eared bloodhound limped his way over to our camper. Ronan saw him first and called him to my attention. As the pathetic beast got closer, his fragile state became more apparent. His chest was sunken so deeply that you could see his ribs protruding on the sides, large patches of fur had fallen out and one eye was gouged, mostly likely from a fight with some creature of the night. Ronan got down on his knees and beckoned him over. The dog took a few laborious steps at a time, pausing to examine us every so often. As he got closer, his tail began to wag. But his excitement got the better of him and the energy wore him out. His two front legs gave way and he began to push himself in our direction, using only his hindquarters - desperate for human interaction and food. Ronan whimpered and I pushed on his back, giving him the okay to approach. He ran over with a bag of cereal and pushed mouthfuls of sugary food into the dog’s mouth. The bloodhound rolled over onto his side - tail still wagging - eating hungrily from Ronan’s hand.
    I knelt down beside them both and put my palms up so he could see I wasn’t a threat. I didn’t want him to get scared and bite Ronan. I slowly moved one hand to the dog’s side and rubbed his tangled fur. His tail wagged furiously. After he ate the entire box of cereal, we gave him some water. Then he went to sleep with his head in Ronan’s lap. He never woke up.
    After that, Ronan obsessed about abandoned pets and trapped animals. He kept asking me how many I thought had died and how many might still be alive. He pointed out every cat and dog he saw while we drove and begged me to stop each time. I made it a point to feed any beggars that came near us when we did pull over.
    I thought more dogs would have approached us, but not many did . We