Red Rain

46

“Lea, please come away from there. You’re not even writing. You’re just staring at the screen. Please-”

“I. . can’t, Mark. There’s so much more to write. I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to pull you away. You don’t leave this room. We have to talk.”

“Maybe when it’s finished. .” She turned on the desk chair to face him, her face pale, eyes tired.

“I’ll take you to lunch in town. Where shall we go? We need to talk about the kids. The boys. How we’re going to deal with this arrow thing.”

She uttered a sigh. “The arrow thing. It’s so silly, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes and no. We need to figure out how we’re going to handle the twins. I mean when there’s conflict. You and I have been at each other’s throats.”

“No. We haven’t. We-”

“Yes, we have. You’re always the good guy, Lea, and I’m forced to be the bad guy.”

“But you are the bad guy.”

He stared at her. “Was that a joke? Are you serious? You’re joking, right?”

She shrugged. “I can’t do lunch today. I’m so sorry. I have to work.”

“But you don’t have a deadline, do you? You’re not even writing it as an assignment for anyone.”

She spun her chair back to face the laptop monitor.

“The kids are worried about you, Lea. Elena asked why you never talk to her anymore. The twins-well, you see they need some guidance, some care. You have to admit you’ve been neglecting them. And poor Ira-”

“Do you think he’ll always be called Poor Ira?”

“That’s not funny, Lea.”

“I’m not neglecting the twins. The twins and I have a special bond. Even if we don’t spend time together. .”

“You’re not making sense, sweetheart. Please get changed and come to lunch with me? It’s a beautiful day and. . and. . I love you. I want to spend time with you.”

She turned. Her eyes went wide. Her whole face constricted. He realized she was staring at the bed.

“Mark-why do we have black sheets? Black sheets mean death!”

“Huh? We’ve had those sheets for years. We-”

“No!” She jumped to her feet, face wide with alarm. “No! Black sheets are death! Death!”

“Lea-what are you doing?” He made a grab for her. Missed.

She dove to the bed. Grasped the end of the top sheet. Tugged it up. She gritted her teeth. Uttered an animal growl. And ripped the black sheet between her hands.

“Lea-stop!”

She ripped the sheet. Pulled hard. Ripped it some more.

“Lea-please.” He ran over to her. Grabbed her arm. “Please stop.”

She tore frantically at the sheets, growling and grunting. “Black sheets are death. Death. Death. Death.”