She gave him a faint smile. “Not another halter, okay?”
He returned the smile and nodded. “I’m going to grab something to eat, too. Do you…”
“No. I don’t want to eat.”
“No problem. I’ll bring something anyway, okay? You might change your mind later.”
She looked down at herself. “That’s hard to imagine.”
“I know. But just in case.”
The restaurant was closed, but the bar was open, and the bartender told him they could put together a plate of this and that. “Dos,” Ben said. “Estoy muerto de hambre.” Make it two. I’m starving.
While the bar put together the food, he went to the gift shop next to reception. They didn’t have much in the way of clothes-mostly bathing suits and surfing regalia-but he found a blue sundress he thought would do the trick. They could worry about getting her something else tomorrow. He bought the dress, along with a short-sleeved button-down shirt for himself.
He picked up the food from the bar along with two bottles of Imperial beer and went back to the room. From the sound of it, Paula was still in the shower. He sat on the floor with his back against the bed and wolfed down an enormous plate of chicken, rice, and beans, all covered with a tangy sauce he’d never tasted before, and polished it off with a beer. It was delicious.
When he finished, she was still in the shower. He knocked on the door and said, “Paula? You all right?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “I’m… I’ll be out in a minute.”
“I got you something to wear.”
“Just leave it out there. There’s a hotel robe.”
“Okay.”
A few minutes later, she came out in a white terry cloth robe. Her hair was wet and her face looked raw. Ben understood instantly. She’d been in there scrubbing under the hottest water she could stand.
“You all right?” he asked again.
She shook her head. “I’m never going to get that smell off me. Blood, and… it was brain, wasn’t it?”
“It’s just in your head now. It’s not on you anymore. And it’ll fade, I promise.”
She nodded and stood there uncertainly. “Come on, sit down,” he said. “See if you can eat something. It’ll make you feel better.”
She sat next to him, holding the bathrobe close as she did, and he pulled the plastic wrap off the remaining plate of food. She took a hesitant bite, then another. “Damn,” she said. “That’s pretty good.”
She started digging in and he popped the cap off the other Imperial. He was glad she was eating. They hadn’t had anything in over fourteen hours, and he knew from experience that no matter what was going on in your mind, you had to tend to your body.
“Okay if I put your contaminated clothes in a laundry bag?” he said. “We’re going to need to get rid of them.”
“Please. I don’t want to look at them again. I’d burn them if I could.”
He found a plastic laundry bag in a drawer and went into the bathroom. Her clothes were in a pile on the floor. He picked them up and dropped them in the bag. Nothing had come off on the floor. The blood was dry. He dropped the bag in front of the room door so they couldn’t forget it when they left and sat down next to her again. She’d eaten about half the food and finished the beer.
“I can’t eat any more,” she said. “Thank you. That was good.”
“No problem.”
“Why are you being so nice to me now?”
“Am I?”
“Yeah. Usually you’re an asshole.”
“That’s just a cover. Underneath, I’m really a very caring person.”
She laughed. “Seriously.”
He shook his head. “That’s a hard thing, what happened to you today.”
“But you’re used to it.”
He shrugged. “Yes. But that doesn’t mean you are. Or that you should be.”
“So you’re going to stop being nice tomorrow?”
“You won’t be over it tomorrow.”
“When will I?”
“I don’t know. It’s different for different people.”
“How was it for you?”
He paused, remembering. “At the time?”
“Yes.”
“It was so chaotic, I didn’t even have time to think. But… exhilarating.”
“Will you tell me about it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I don’t think I’m going to fall asleep anytime soon.”
“It was Somalia. The battle of Mogadishu. Did you see the movie Black Hawk Down? Or read Mark Bowden’s book?”
“I saw the movie.”
“Well, that’s what it was. Bowden did a good job. So did Ridley Scott. No one had time to think. It was just a nonstop firefight.”
“But afterward.”
“Like I said, exhilarated. And devastated, because I lost friends.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Comes with the territory.”
“Stop being such a hard case.”
“I’m not. It was a long time ago. I don’t like thinking about it. Anyway, it was different for me.”
“How?”
“I was trained. I was prepared. You haven’t had any of that. You’ve never seen anyone die before, have you?”
“My mother.”
“I mean killed.”
“No.”
“Well, seeing a dozen or so people shot to death in front of your eyes is shocking even if you’ve been prepared for it.”
She nodded and didn’t answer.
He got up and squeezed her shoulder gently. “Going to take a shower. Be back in a few.”
He brushed his teeth, then took a scalding shower, soaping up and scrubbing off the day’s sweat and grime, the hot water loosening up his muscles and accessing the fatigue underneath. Post-combat parasympathetic backlash was a bitch, and he was coming down from an entire day fueled by adrenaline. His mind was still on fire from all that had happened, but his body was starting to get the upper hand.
He pulled on a hotel robe when he was done, turned off the light, and went back out into the bedroom. Paula had turned off all the lights but the little one on the desk. She was lying on her side on one of the beds and Ben thought she must have fallen asleep.
He walked around to the side of the bed to see if her eyes were closed and was surprised to find her awake, her face streaked with tears that shone amid the shadows.
“Hey,” he said. “You okay?”
She didn’t answer.
He squatted down next to the bed and put his hand on her arm. “What is it?”
She shook her head. “I just don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”
He didn’t know what to say. He tried, “You’re doing fine.”
“I mean, I’m a law enforcement officer. Fourteen people were killed today. I saw you kill two of them. And I’m not doing anything about it.”
“There’s nothing to be done.”
“I don’t know what my role is anymore.”
“You’re doing a good job. I didn’t mean it cruelly before when I said you’re out of your element. You’re law enforcement, and you just got dropped into a combat zone. You’re trying to learn your way.”
She nodded and a fresh flow of tears ran silently down her face.
He squeezed her arm. “Paula.”
She didn’t answer.
He got up and walked around to the other side of the bed, then lay down next to her. He stroked her arm.
“I can’t stop thinking about it,” she said. “I can’t get it out of my head.”
“I know.”
“His… his brains…”
Her voice rose on the last word and then choked off. She curled up and shook with silent tears.
“Shh,” he whispered. “I know. I know.”
A sob caught in her throat and she cried harder.
“That’s it,” he said. “Let it out. Let it out. That’s what I do, when I can’t take it anymore.”
She coughed out a laugh through her tears. “You do not.”
“Of course I do. All soldiers are crybabies, because we deal with so much shit. We just don’t tell anyone. It’s bad for our image.”
He realized he’d acknowledged he was a soldier, but decided it didn’t matter.
She laughed again, then cried harder. He put his arm around her, took her hand, and pulled her close. “Shh,” he said again. “It’s okay.”