Contracts of the Heart

Chapter 1: The Beach House

The honeymoon was over. They stayed at the beach house Joseph had taken them for a few days, and then lingered even longer.

Rosa Sharon would pace around the living room. Joseph would leave for long walks and not say where he was going. He said visions led him, like he said they led him to her on the day that was supposed to be her wedding day.

One morning Rosa Sharon stood at the kitchen sink. Her hands were submerged in lukewarm water. She was scrubbing the black leggings she bought at the mall. The fabric was cheap.

She looked out the window. Joseph was on the deck. He was staring at the ocean. He hadn't moved in an hour. No walk today.

The pipes groaned. A deep, hacking mechanical cough that vibrated through the sink.

-Damn it, she whispered.

She twisted the handle. The water sputtered. It made a noise but nothing came out. Then thick, crimson liquid pulsed out.

Rosa yanked her hands back. She stared at the water.

She shut the tap. The pipes coughed one last time and went silent.

She wiped her hands on her shirt. She walked to the screen door and pushed it open.

-Joseph.

He didn't seem to hear her.

-Joseph, the water is doing it again.

-It's old pipes, Rosa, he said. Rust.

-It's thick, Joseph. It coagulates.

He turned then. He looked like he hadn't slept since they fled the altar.

-I have a migraine, he said.

-You always have a migraine lately.

The visions.

She stepped onto the deck.

-You said you knew the owners, she said. You said they were away. Long away.

-I did.

-Who are they, Joseph? What did they do here?

He looked back at the ocean.

-I don't know.

-You found the key, she said. Under the planter. You walked right to it.

-I saw it, he said.

-A vision, she said dismissively.

He tapped the side of his head.

-I saw the key. I saw the door opening. I saw us safe. That's all.

The man who stole her from her wedding. The stranger. He didn't have a plan. He had hallucinations.

-I'm checking the main line, she said.

-Don't go down there.

-We need water, Joseph. Clean water.

-Leave it, he said.

She ignored him. She went back inside. The smell was worse now.

She opened the door to the basement. She flipped the switch to chase the darkness away. A single yellow bulb lit up.

She walked down. The stairs creaked. The boiler sat in the corner, rusting. The pipes ran along the ceiling. She followed the main line. It ran past the boiler. It ran past the support beams.

It ran into a wall.

Rosa frowned. She tapped it. It was plywood, painted hastily to match the concrete.

She hooked her fingers under the edge of the wood. It was loose.

She pulled. The plywood gave way. It swung open like a door.

Rosa covered her mouth.

Formaldehyde and decay. Stainless steel tables bolted to the floor. Grooves cut into the concrete, stained dark brown, leading to a central drain. Shelves lined the back wall, stocked with jars of cloudy fluid and metal tools. Hooks hung from the ceiling.

Mortuary tools. Embalming fluid.

The pipes overhead rattled. A drop of red water leaked from a joint and hit the steel table with a wet plink.

Rosa backed away.

She turned and bolted to the stairs. She burst into the kitchen.

Joseph was standing there. He had the duffel bag in his hand.

-We have to go, he said.

-You knew, she gasped.

-I didn't. I swear.

-It's a slaughterhouse, Joseph! There are tables. Drains!

-I know what it smells like now, he said. I can taste it.

He grabbed her arm. His grip was hard.

-The bus, he said.

-What?

-Route 101. It's coming. I see it.

-I'm not going anywhere with you. You're crazy.

-Room 112, he said. His eyes were wide, unblinking. A double room. Paid for. Safe.

-There is no safe!

-There is. I see it. The wall is gone. The money is there.

-Money?

-The courier never showed. It's waiting for us.

The pipes hacked a cough again. The kitchen faucet blasted open on its own. Red filth sprayed into the sink, overflowing onto the floor.

Rosa looked at the blood spreading across the linoleum. She looked at Joseph. The stranger. The seer. The scizophrenic.

-Run.

Chapter 2: The Wayward Bus

They hit the pavement.

Joseph stared down the road.

-It's coming, he said.

-There's no schedule here, Joseph. It's a rural road.

-Count to ten.

She looked at the duffel bag in his hand. It was light. Just the clothes they'd acquired since running away from the wedding.

The top of a bus peaked over the horizon. The destination sign flickered. Route 101 - Southbound.

Rosa stopped breathing for a second.

The bus stopped and the doors hissed open.

Joseph stepped up and looked at the driver and nodded. He nodded back and let Joseph on.

Rosa followed.

They found a seat in the back. The vinyl was cracked.

Joseph put the bag on his lap. He squeezed the handle.

-You see? he asked.

Rosa looked out the window.

-Coincidence, she said.

-Precision.

-You're scaring me, Joseph.

They sat in silence and watched the ocean on their right.

-Tell me about the room, she said.

-Room 112 he said, and closed his eyes.

The migraine was back. She could see it in his temple.

-It's a motel room. The Stardust. Or Star-something. The neon sign is broken.

-What about the room?

-Ground floor. End of the row. It used to be two rooms. 112 and 114. They knocked the wall down.

-Why?

-Renovation that ran out of money. Or a request from a specific guest.

-The courier, she said.

He nodded.

-He paid for a month. Cash. He was supposed to drop something off. He never made it.

-And we're just going to walk in?

-The clerk is tired. He won't care who we are. As long as we act like we belong.

Rosa looked at her hands. She rubbed them. She couldn't get the phantom feel of the blood off.

-And if you're wrong? she asked.

-I'm not.

-But what if you are?, she asked.

-I'm not wrong.

She leaned her head against the cool glass.

She thought about Jack. Standing at the altar.

Had she been wrong?

She thought about the tables in the basement. The drains.

She looked at Joseph, who was shivering.

-Give me your hand, she said.

He opened his hand. She took it. His skin was fever-hot.

-We're going to the motel, she said. But if there's no room 112, Joseph, if there's no wall knocked down.

-There is.

-Then I'm leaving. I'm walking to a police station. Tell them I'm not missing anymore.

-You won't have to.

The bus drove and the sun set.

The brakes hissed again.

-Here, Joseph said.

They stood up and got off onto the side of the highway.

The Star-lite Motel. The "lite" was dead.

They walked across the lot and into the lobby. The clerk was watching a small TV.

-Yo, Joseph said.

The clerk blinked. He looked at Joseph. His eyes glazed over.

-Name?

-You have it, Joseph said to the clerk, as if he were reminding him. Room 112.

The clerk checked the book.

-The paid room.

-Yes, exactly, Joseph said.

The clerk reached into a cubby and dropped a key on the counter.

-Maid service is Tuesdays, the clerk mumbled.

Tuesday didn't mean anything to the clerk, or to Joseph, or to Rosa Sharon.

Joseph took the key.

They walked outside.

Room 112 was at the end.

Joseph put the key in the lock. It turned.

He pushed the door open.

Rosa held her breath and stepped inside.

It was huge. Two queen beds. Two dressers.

Twice the size of a regular room, and a plastered wall where a second door should have been.

-See? Joseph whispered.

He walked to the closet. He opened it.

A brown bag sat on the shelf up top.

Rosa felt the floor tilt.

Chapter 3: Paper Bag

Joseph reached up. He grabbed the brown bag like it was full of groceries.

He dropped it on the bed.

-Put it back, Rosa Sharon said. She stayed by the door. Her hand was on the knob.

-It's why we're here, Joseph said, picking the bag up, unrolling the top and dumping the contents on the mattress.

Rosa Sharon looked. She was worried it was drugs, or a severed head.

It was money, in stacks. Lots of them. Joseph started inspecting the bills.

-Sequential, he said.

-Oh no.

Rosa let go of the door. She slid down the wall until she hit the floor.

-It's dirty money, Joseph.

-It's not, he said, picking a stack up and smelling it.

-Look at it, Rosa. It's too neat. It's too clean.

-Money is money. People kill for ten dollars. They kill for free.

-Not this money, he said.

He sat on the edge of the bed. He looked at the cash like he was reading tea leaves.

-White collar, he said.

-What?

-Tax cheats. Accountants hiding profits from other accountants. It's skimming money.

Rosa looked at him. The migraine pulse in his temple was gone.

-How do you know?, she asked.

-I see him. The courier.

He pointed at the empty space where the wall used to be.

-He came here to drop it for a fixer. But he got spooked. Maybe he saw a cop car. Maybe he just lost his nerve.

-He ran?

-He left the key and he ran. He's halfway to Canada by now. He thinks the fixer already picked it up. The fixer thinks the courier stole it.

Rosa Sharon looked at Joseph, trying to understand the story and believe it.

-It's orphan money, Rosa. No one is looking for it. They're too scared to look.

-It's a lot, she whispered.

-Enough for Baja. Enough for Cousin Benny.

-It feels dirty.

-Everything is dirty, Joseph said. The beach house. The water. The wedding.

He reached out. He touched her cheek. His hand was warm now.

-This is just paper. It buys a clean slate.

Rosa sat on the floor and looked at the stacks on the bed.

She thought about the red water in the sink. She thought about the way the clerk looked through them.

-Are you sure? she asked.

-I see us on a beach, he said. I see the sun. I see you smiling.

She closed her eyes. She wanted to see it too.

-Okay, she said.

-Okay?

-We take it.

Joseph smiled.

-We need to rest, he said.

He patted a spot on the bed next to the money.

-Come here.

Rosa stood up. Her legs felt heavy.

She climbed onto the bed. She lay down next to the money

Joseph lay down next to her. He pulled her close.

Rosa Sharon closed her eyes.

Chapter 4: The Room

The room was quiet.

Rosa Sharon kept her eyes closed. She could still see the red water.

She shivered and the mattress shook with her.

Joseph's arm tightened around her.

-Cold? he asked.

-No, she said.

-You're shaking.

-I feel dirty.

She opened her eyes. The ceiling was stained with water damage.

-I scrubbed my hands, she said. But I can still smell it. The rot.

-It's in your head, Joseph said.

-It's on my skin. It's in my hair.

She sat up suddenly. The stacks of money tipped over, sliding against her thigh.

-I shouldn't be here, she said. I should be on a honeymoon. I left Jack standing there. He never hurt anyone.

Joseph sat up. He leaned against the headboard.

-He would want you to be alive, he said.

-I am alive.

-Not if you'd stayed.

-So you saved me? she asked, laughing. You saved me from a boring wedding to take me to a slaughterhouse?

-I didn't know.

-You see things, Joseph. But you don't see the blood?

He looked away.

-I see what I'm shown, he said.

He reached out. He took her hand.

-I'm sorry, he said.

Rosa Sharon looked at him. The stranger. The runaway abettor. She should keep running away.

-I can't sleep, she said.

-You don't have to sleep.

-I need to forget. I need to get the smell out of my nose.

-Let me help, he said.

He pulled her hand. Gently. He guided it to his chest.

She felt his heartbeat.

-I'm here, he said. That beach house is miles away. Your old life is even further away.

Rosa Sharon moved closer. She crawled over the scattered bills.

She needed to feel something other than guilt.

She straddled his lap.

Joseph looked up at her.

-Rosa, he warned.

-Make me forget, she said.

She leaned down. She pressed her forehead against his.

-Make me feel alive, Joseph. Because right now, I feel like a ghost.

He didn't argue. He put his hands on her waist. He pulled her down.

The money slid beneath them.

Chapter 5: Fever

Joseph's hands were rough.

He pulled her shirt up. She helped him, tearing at the fabric. It tangled over her head and she shoved it away.

The air in the room was stale.

He unhooked her bra. It fell onto a stack of cash.

Rosa Sharon arched her back.

-Touch me, she said.

He buried his face in her neck. He bit down, just hard enough to ground her.

His hands slid down her spine. They found the waistband of the cheap leggings.

-Lift up, he murmured against her skin.

She lifted her hips. He yanked the leggings down. They tangled around her ankles and she kicked them off.

Joseph looked at her.

-You're beautiful, he said.

-I'm a mess.

He moved lower. His mouth found her breast.

Rosa Sharon gasped. She tangled her fingers in his hair. She pulled him closer.

She ground her hips against him. The friction was desperate.

-Joseph, please.

He moved lower still. His hands gripped her hips, leaving marks on her skin.

He pulled her underwear off.

She spread for him.

He tasted her.

Rosa Sharon threw her head back. She stared at the water stain on the ceiling.

-Don't stop, she whispered.

She needed to be filled. She needed to be tethered to the earth so she wouldn't fade away.

She reached for his belt. Her fingers fumbled.

-Now, she said.

Joseph pulled back.

He shucked his jeans and kicked them away.

He moved between her legs.

-Look at me, he said.

She looked.

He thrust into her.

Rosa Sharon cried out.

She wrapped her legs around him. She pulled him deeper.

The bed frame banged against the wall.

-Harder, she said.

She clawed at his shoulders.

Joseph drove into her. He was an anchor.

The money scattered. Bills fluttered to the floor.

They were running.

The tension coiled in her belly. It was tight.

-Joseph!

He covered her mouth with his hand and muffled her scream.

She bit his palm down hard.

She convulsed against him. She milked him.

He groaned, a low, guttural sound, and spilled himself inside her.

They collapsed.

Rosa Sharon lay under him. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.

The room was quiet again.

Chapter 6: The Groom

The fever broke.

Rosa Sharon stared at the ceiling and the water stain.

Joseph rolled off her.

He lay on his back. His arm covered his eyes.

The money was everywhere.

Rosa sat up. She pulled the sheet around her and thought of Jack. Standing at the altar in his tuxedo. Checking his watch. Smiling at his mother.

Waiting for a door that would never open.

A sob caught in her throat.

Joseph moved his arm. He looked at her.

-Rosa?

She put her face in her hands.

-I left him there, Joseph.

-You did.

-He's a good man.

She wiped her eyes.

-Everyone stared at him. Pitied him.

-He'll survive, Joseph said.

-He's broken. I broke him.

She looked at the scattered cash.

-I'm rolling in stolen money with a stranger while he's probably calling hospitals.

Joseph sat up.

-You didn't break him, he said. You saved him.

-Saved him? I humiliated him.

-You saved him from a wife who was already gone. You saved him from waking up in five years next to a stranger.

Rosa looked at him.

-He would want you to be happy, Rosa. If he loves you, he wants you alive. Not just breathing.

-I don't feel happy.

-You feel guilty. That means you're decent.

He moved closer. He put his hand on her neck.

-Let it go.

-And what's left? she asked.

-Us, he said. And the road south.

Rosa took a breath.

She imagined Jack one last time. She imagined him taking off his tie. Walking out of the venue.

She exhaled.

-Cousin Benny, Joseph said. Baja.

-When do we leave?

-Now.

Rosa nodded. She dropped the sheet.

She stood up. She stepped over the money.

-I need a shower, she said.

-Make it quick.

-And Joseph?

He looked up.

-Thank you.

-For what?

-For the truth.

She walked into the bathroom. She turned the handle.

The water was clear.

Chapter 7: The Stranger

They left the room, packing the money into their duffel bag.

The air outside was cooling. The sun hung low over the Pacific.

-We need to blend in, he said.

-We look like people running away, Rosa said.

-We look like tourists. We just need the props.

They walked toward the commercial strip. It was a line of surf shops, taco stands, and souvenir traps.

Rosa walked close behind him.

They stopped in front of a shop. Salty's Surf & Sport. Mannequins in the window wore board shorts and bored grins.

-In here, Joseph said.

He opened the door. A bell chimed.

Joseph walked up to the clerk and leaned on the counter.

-Hey boss, he said. We need to gear up. My wife and I are hitting the sand.

Rosa flinched.

-Cool, the kid said.

-I need a metal detector, Joseph said. And she needs some strings.

-Detectors are in the back. Suits on the rack.

Joseph turned to Rosa. He winked.

-Go wild, babe. Something colorful.

He turned back to the clerk. He started talking about tide charts and gold rings lost by tourists. He was charming. He was a chameleon.

Rosa walked to the racks.

She found the black one-pieces. The sensible suits.

She pushed them aside.

She found a bikini. It was red, bright and violent.

It was barely there.

She held it up.

It wasn't Rosa Sharon.

It was someone else. Someone who slept on a bed of stolen money. Someone who ran away with a stranger.

She grabbed it.

She grabbed a wide-brimmed hat. Sunglasses.

Joseph walked over. He was carrying a long box.

-Found the gold sniffer? she asked.

-Top of the line. We're going to look like professionals.

He looked at the red bikini in her hand. He grinned.

-Fire, he said.

-It's a bit much.

-It's perfect.

He took the hanger from her.

-Go try it on, he said.

-I know my size.

-Try it on anyway, he said. We're not in a rush. The bus doesn't come for an hour.

He leaned in close. His voice dropped to a whisper.

-I want to see you in it.

Rosa felt the heat rise in her cheeks.

He handed her the bikini back.

-Go on, Rosa Sharon.

She took the suit. She walked to the back of the store. He followed her.

The curtain was flimsy. The mirror was cracked.

She stepped inside, and then he did.

Chapter 8: Changing Room

The booth was like an upright coffin.

Joseph squeezed in. The latch clicked, but it was mostly cosmetic.

Rosa backed up. Her heels hit the wall.

-He'll hear us, she whispered.

-He's spaced out. He doesn't care.

Rosa held the red bikini against her chest. It was a shield. A flimsy one.

Joseph reached out. He took the hanger. He tossed it onto the small bench.

-You're crazy, she said.

-I'm inspired.

He stepped closer. There was nowhere to go. His chest brushed hers.

-We're going to get caught, she said.

-Then be quiet.

He kissed her.

His hands found her waist and he spun her around.

Rosa pressed her palms against the wall. She looked at herself in the cracked mirror.

Her eyes were wide.

Joseph's hands were on her hips. He pulled her back against him.

She felt him. Hard. Impatient.

She reached down. She fumbled with the button of his jeans.

-Hurry, she breathed.

He shoved her sensible black skirt up. He pulled her panties aside.

He entered her. One thrust. Deep.

Rosa's head fell back. She opened her mouth to scream.

Joseph's hand clamped over her lips.

It muffled the sound.

The wall shook. The mirror rattled in its frame.