Page 99

“What are you doing for Christmas?” Kim asked Cary, watching him chug a carton of milk right out of the container, standing in front of her fridge in his bare feet.

“Dunno,” Cary said. “Nothing, I guess. Work.”

Kim admired Cary’s work ethic. When he wasn't buried in her, he spent almost all his time at the shop. He’d even had to go away for several months over the summer, helping with some big mechanic convention across the border.

It was nice, being in a relationship with someone who worked as much as she did. He never gave her a hard time about her odd hours, always equally happy to show up at 11:00am for a nooner as he was to crawl into her bed at 3:00am after a twelve-hour shift.

Susan, her work partner and friend, was half in-love with Cary and kept begging her to get him to set her up.

“Someone that good-looking has got to have hot friends,” Susan whined.

Kim honestly didn’t know. Cary never introduced her to any of his friends or family, and she’d only met one or two colleagues in passing the few times she’d been around his shop. She knew he had a sister, the one who had been sick the Christmas before, but he didn’t talk about himself much. In fact, he didn’t talk about anything much, unless you counted groaning and you like that, don't you.

He did like to go to the movies, though. She loved walking through the theatre with Cary’s arm slung loosely around her shoulders, basking in the envious looks the other girls threw at her. They were always offered free snacks and free tickets at the theatre, always bumped up the list while waiting for a table at a bar or restaurant, always given a discount or sent an extra appetizer… She could never have imagined how much easier life was, for him. How many more doors opened for you just because you were beautiful.

Sometimes Cary fell asleep in the theatre, slumped in his seat, his feet propped up on the row in front of him. He’d fallen asleep during Being John Malkovich and The Green Mile . American Beauty had held his interest, but she suspected he just thought Mena Suvari was really hot, even if she was quite young.

Cary favoured action movies, and scary films, forcing her to sit through The Sixth Sense and The Matrix. She’d felt nauseous during The Blair Witch Project, but he refused to leave so she stared at the seat in front of her for most of it.

He fucked her hard, and often, with an almost vicious edge that sometimes left her so sore she could barely walk.

But she loved him.

“Would you like to come home with me, for Christmas?” she asked, feeling shy. “Maybe… meet my family?”

He wiped his milk moustache with the back of hand, and then wiped it on his t-shirt that said LACTOSE INTOLERANT .

“Okay,” he said.

And that was that.

She’d phoned her mom, to tell her she was bringing a man home for the holidays.

“When are you coming, dear?” her mom had asked, excitement in her voice.

“Christmas morning. I’m working Christmas Eve.”

“Again? Didn’t you work Christmas Eve last year?”

“I did, mom. But it is what it is. I don’t have control over the shift rotations.”

“What about using some vacation time? Surely you have some holidays built up!”

Kim didn’t want to tell her that she’d used a lot of her vacation days calling in sick to stay in bed with Cary. And sometimes to recover for a day or two after he left, her ass and vagina sore and her arms and thighs covered in purple bruises.

“We’ll come early, okay? In time for breakfast. I promise.”

Her mom sighed. “Okay, Kim. Well, we’re looking forward to seeing you both…”

Kim eyed the present she’d put under the tree for Cary. It was a t-shirt with two crows on it, that said Attempted Murder.

She knew he’d love it.