Page 84 of The Square

And now I allow the comically undersized clothing to fall from my body onto the bathroom floor and I stare at my naked form in the mirror. I touch gently at my ribs. Not bad. Sensitive, but not impossibly so. There is no more bruising of note on my flesh. Not really. No damage that one can see on the surface. But underneath, the pain still lingers.

I step into the elaborately tiled glass enclosure behind me and turn on the rainfall showerhead. I step back and remain standing on the outside until it reaches peak temperature. I want to feel the water scalding when it touches my skin.

You know, back when I told her the truth, I wish Christine had made her anger known to me rather than plotting with Lars to try to murder me and take over my entire world…

But then again… eh. I can’t really blame her. I helped mold her into who she is.

‘Water under the bridge,’ as they also say.

Such an odd expression. I suppose it implies that once something is washed away, it’s gone and should be let go. But now, here, the expression causes me to think of Misty going over the side of that railing and that being the moment I knew my love for these two people was real.

The glass inside the shower begins to fog with steam.

It also causes me to think of what Danny said. That my going over the side of the falls was the moment he decided he truly loves me. Spawned of Christine’s hurt, and lost love, came new love. From Danny.

Water under the bridge. Water over the falls. Water, water everywhere, I allow the words of Coleridge to play along in my thoughts as I step into the steaming, scorching rainfall. Perhaps, if I’m very lucky indeed, it will wash away everything now.

That is a lot to expect from a shower in a suite at the Ritz-Carlton, but then again it is a very nice hotel, so—

A tap on the glass snaps me back to the present. I wipe at the steam-frosted window to find both of them there. They look… I don’t know. Mischievous, maybe.

Also… naked. Or, at least... she is.

“Hey,” Christine says.

“Hi,” I respond.

“Hey, dude,” Danny says. “Better.” He indicates my shaved face by placing his hand along his own jawline and pointing at me.

“Thanks.” I say.

Then no one says anything for a moment. We all just stare at each other. I have to wipe clean the glass once more so that I can continue to see them. Finally, after I wipe it a third time, Christine is the one who asks…

“Can we come in?”