Sleeper's Run

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The next day, I lay alone in bed lost in thought as I play with my lighter. It is said that if you want to change a habit, you must replace it with something else. Last night, I think I found my new addiction.

"Did I wake you?" says Trishna, standing naked by the bathroom door.

I shake my head. "Waking up to you looking like that can never be a bad thing." I take in every inch of her breathtaking body.

"What's with the lighter?" she says getting in bed with me and resting her head on my chest. "Is that like a good luck charm?" She takes it from my hand to take a closer look. Her thumb rubs the dent on its side.

"My great grandfather on my father's side was English. He bought it in London just before being deployed to Belgium to fight in World War I. After the war, he migrated to America where he got married. When my grandfather went on to fight in World War II, he inherited the lighter as a good luck charm," I say as I caress her hair. "During one of his missions, he was shot down over France and was the only survivor from his crew."

"He used it to survive?"

"Yeah," I say, remembering the story fondly. "But it also helped him get to a little farm in the countryside, where he met my grandmother. After the war, he returned to marry her and take her back to the States."

"That's a beautiful story," says Trishna, looking at me.

"My father inherited it when he graduated flight school," I say as I take the lighter back and look at it as if it were the first time. "And he gave it to me after I completed boot camp."

Trishna slides a finger over one of my scars. "Did you ever kill anyone?"

There's never a good way to answer that question. "Have you ever been with another woman?" I shoot back.

She sniggers. "Is that how it's gonna be now? OK." She moves close to my ear and whispers, "When I was in college, my roommate was this stunning blonde I met in my aerobics class. We were a little drunk one night, talking about our ex-boyfriends and she asked me if I could give her a backrub..."

"Go on," I say feeling my heart beat faster.

Trishna bursts out laughing. "You boys are so incredibly predictable!" She climbs on top of me pinning my hands down.

"I knew you were fucking with me," I say.

"Oh really? Well somebody feels differently." She marks each word with a kiss as she rubs her soft, warm body against mine.

We spend that weekend making love and ordering in. We watch Casablanca, which has become our favorite movie, and we debate its ending. She thinks Rick is an idiot for letting Ilsa go with Victor; "If he really loved her, he would've fought for her." I think he showed the highest expression of love for someone; Rick let her go to pursue what Ilsa thought she wanted.

On Monday, we both call in sick; we can't be bothered with trivial things like work. From that point on, I see the city through different eyes. It isn't about what is lost anymore, but what we are discovering together. I learn more about Caracas-and Venezuela for that matter-in the next two months than in the twelve years I lived here.

Since Corso would probably frown on our relationship, we keep our distance while at work, but we are over at each other's apartments so much that we may as well be living together. Of course, I hire a surveillance expert to de-bug our apartments. If the government perverts want a show, they can browse the web for porn.

On long weekends, I rent a plane and fly us around the country: the snowy peaks of Mérida, the majestic Angel Falls in Canaima, the crystal blue waters of Los Roques and the magical dunes of Coro.