Free Romeo is Homeless by Julie Frayn Page A

she missed her mattress. She pulled her thin hoodie tighter around her shoulders. She hadn’t packed well for her new city life – hell, she didn’t pack at all. Then again, what had she expected? The Ritz? Yes that was exactly what she expected. The Ritz. Tiffany’s. Stupid, stupid girl.
    Reese emerged from the river path holding a blanket in one hand. It looked as if it could have been pink at one time but was now just filthy, stained with she-didn’t-want-to-know-what.
    “I found this behind the pillar.” He shook out the blanket. Dust and dirt flew up into the morning sunlight. A used Band-Aid fell from its folds. He placed the blanket around her and patted her back. “That should help with the morning chill.”
    “Thanks. What would I do if I hadn’t met you?”
    He sat next to her and flicked a roach away with his thumb and middle finger. He put his arm around her shivering shoulders, pulling her in so she could lean against him.
    “You’d have gone home already, where you belong.” He brushed a kiss against her forehead.
    She wanted to object to his gentle assertion that she didn’t belong there, but was far too distracted by the tingling sensation where his lips had touched her skin.
    With her head against his shoulder, she had a close-up view of his long neck and scruffy chin. Grouped to the right of his Adam’s apple were three scars. Three perfectly round spots. She rested her fingers on the side of his neck, the heat of his skin warming her hand, and grazed one spot with her thumb. “What are these from?”
    He reached up and moved her hand. “Burns.” He turned away and lit a cigarette, cupping his hand around the match to protect the flame from the wind, then put his arm around her shoulder again.
    She looked from the scars to his cigarette and then back. “Did you do this?” She touched each scar with one fingertip.
    “Nah.” He brushed her hand away again. “A souvenir from one of my mother’s boyfriends. Can’t remember which one.”
    “Why would he do that to you?”
    “Because he’s a sadistic prick, I guess.” He took a long drag and dropped the lit cigarette on the pavement next to what looked like a puddle of dried blood, and exhaled straight up into the air. He sighed and gave her shoulder a faint squeeze before releasing her, then rolled up the sleeve on his left arm and pointed. “This is my handiwork.” Several thin scars crisscrossed his forearm.
    “Reese! Why?”
    “Sometimes things just get too screwed up. Too weird. I start to lose control. Cutting helps me focus, you know? The pain, it makes you know what’s real. Makes the other shit in life disappear for a while. Makes you feel… I don’t know. Free.” He picked up the cigarette from the ground and put it between his lips. It hung from the corner of his mouth, one eye squinting to keep the smoke out. “I’ve thought about doing it here.” He drew a finger across his wrist.
    “Don’t say that.” She slapped him on the arm of his jacket, searching his face for some indication that he was joking.
    He just looked toward the river. “Whatever. I haven’t cut in a long time. Hey, I’m starved. Let’s go get some grub.”
    She rubbed sleep from the corners of her eyes. “I’ve got no money left.”
    He shrugged. “I could work, but I hate doing that this early.”
    “You have a job? That’s awesome. I tried to apply at a video store but, well – they didn’t hire me.” She wasn’t about to explain it to him, didn’t want anyone to know what that creep had asked her to do.
    “I don’t have that kind of job. I… ” He brushed hair away from his face and sucked on the cigarette again. “I do favors for people,” he said on the exhale.
    “What, like mow their lawn?”
    His laugh snorted out of his nose along with blue smoke. “Uh, no.” He flicked the ash from his cigarette, then turned to look at her. “Sexual favors.”
    “Who would ask you to do that?”
    “Lots of people. Mostly