Fidelity
Just as she’d asked, each drop eased the tension, washing it away until it swirled on the tile and disappeared down the drain.
Behind the glass doors the mist filled with the aroma of fruit—something citrus—as I massaged shampoo into Charli’s long silky hair. In the light of the shower, her red tresses darkened, bringing out a rich, beautiful mahogany hue. With her hands on the side of the shower, her head bowed forward as I covered her, cleaning away the last week—the last two. The conditioner, the body wash…each step removed a little more of the edge. When we were done, Charli turned in my arms, wrapped her arms around my waist, and under the still-hot spray broke down.
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