Robbie lay stock-still, staring at the ceiling. Maria slept in the crook of his arm, the curve of his spine, the back of his neck. Each time he moved during the night she woke. She looked at him in the dark, her big eyes searching but not questioning.
He felt like an observer. Weirded out. The tattoo reinforced this. The ritual of blood, pain and a moving rebirth of vitality he’d observed in Maria during her session had left a dark stain on his perspective. He felt confused, disempowered in the face of her resolute vision. All messed up. Was this because she was a girl he liked or because her strength scared him in a male way? Because he was frightened of strong women?
“Robbie, you know I like to perform. I like drama. It’s written on my skin. For most men I’ve been with, that was more t
