Chapter 20: Hair

The bathtub in Gina's apartment stood on four iron feet and had been there since 1952.

I had showered beside it a dozen times and never once used it.

That night, after the gym closed and the last kid left, Gina ran the water herself, hot enough to steam the mirror.

"Get in," she said.

"I thought you were going to celebrate."

"This is celebrating."

"With a bath?"

"With you in it. Get in, Senior Associate."

I undressed in the warm cloud of the bathroom and stepped over the high side, and the water closed around my shoulders.

A shudder went through me that reached my bones.

I had been holding the week in my back, in my jaw, in my teeth.

Gina knelt on the tile behind me and rolled her sleeves up to the elbow.

She had taken off the tape.

Her forearms were bare and strong, and the water caught the dark hair on them.

"Lean back," she said.

I leaned until my head rested against the cool rim.

She wet my hair with a plastic cup, pouring slowly, and the warm water ran down behind my ears and into the tub.

She worked shampoo through it with her fingertips.

Her hands were slow and sure, the same hands that had wrapped mine on the first day.

She kneaded my scalp in small circles that made my eyes slide shut.

"Does that feel as good as I think?"

"This is the best thing that has ever happened to me."

"Your standards are low."

"My standards are very high, and you're meeting them."

She laughed, and I felt the vibration in the water.

She ran her thumbs along the back of my skull and down to the base of my neck, where the knots sat.

I heard myself make a soft sound.

"There," she said. "That one's been there since the card."

"Since before that. Since Dustin."

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