Act 1, Chapter 1, Part 6: Pointed

Recapitulation: Barry has received a one month suspension after chasing grave robber Jenna through Millken Park and disrupting a funeral. He returns to his apartment only to find Jenna has moved in, is passing herself off as his wife, and wants to partner with him to rob graves.

***

Jenna had to be kidding. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Seems to me you’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Because of you!” Barry turned around, stepped back into the kitchen no longer his. Splashed water in his face, felt the frown creasing his features.

“Oh, come on, between my coercion of you, and your willingness to be coerced, we can’t fail.” She yelled out from the bedroom, before walking into the doorframe. Her forearms, thin as reeds, pressed up against the frame. She leaned forward, as if dipping down into a pool, breaking the surface with her face and chest. That’s what this came down to, Barry swimming in his own insulated world, and Jenna intruding, bringing with her a new method of living.

“It’s illegal, it’s wrong, there’s nothing appealing about stealing from dead people.”

“Like they need it.” Then she leaned back. “Wait, you’re not one of those people that thinks dead people are watching us now, are you? Oh no, not the ghosts, they’re watching us!” She curled into a ball on the floor, peeking out from behind her fists. “Go away, do you want the ring back? Will that send you away?” Jenna tossed the ruby ring at Barry. It smacked him in the forehead, clattered onto the linoleum floor, smashing an errant flake left over from Jenna’s exorcism of health food.

“Really, what are they going to do with it? You can’t take it with you.”

Damned if she didn’t have a point. “That’s crap.”

“Oh, excuse me, I forgot, you do this for a living. Tell me, how many dead people got up and walked away during the funeral? No, I’ll be generous, at any time. Go ahead, count it up, hubby.” Now she’d migrated to the chair in the kitchen, the only one in the entire apartment.

“I am not your husband!” He slapped the table.

“Fine wifey, we can play that way too. Where do you keep the strap-on?”

“This, the, that, those!”

“Look, it’s only illegal if we get caught. We got a month to plan it out, you’ve got access to Millken Park, and I’ve got the black dresses and can cry on command. Slap me.”

“What?”

“Slap me.” She stood up out of the chair and brandished her face at him. “Either cheek, it doesn’t matter.”

“Are you insane?”

“I won’t hit you back.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Oh, you’re always concerned with points Barry. Why does everything have to have a point? Just hit me, I know you want to. Either cheek, I don’t care.”

He grew up laboring under the belief that you never hit women, which is why he was so surprised after he slapped her, open handed across her left cheek, then backhanded her across the right cheek. For her part, she cried out loud, clutching at her cheeks. “Why did you do that?”

“You just told me to hit you?”

“Not hard, I was going to show you I can cry on command.” Jenna seemed a little shorter somehow. Strawberry red, her face looked like it was ready to burst. Her cheeks already started to swell, not with pride, but from inflammation. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m so sorry. Please, let me see it.” He reached out for her hands, but she kicked away from the table, sliding backwards on the chair. Now she shivered, but the apartment wasn’t that cool. The thermostat, assuming she hadn’t altered it, regulated the temperature at a moderate 68 degrees.

“Stay away from me.”

“No, please, stop crying, I’m so sorry, please, I’ll do anything, it was a mistake, I didn’t mean it.”

“Anything?” Jenna had her arms raised as if ready to box him, though her thin arms couldn’t punch through cardboard.

“Yes, yes, just stop crying.”

She stopped, shutting it off like her emotions. “We’ve got a month to plan. You’re going to get us some dinner, none of this rabbit food, and we’re going to figure out how this is going to work. Oh, and hand me my ring, will you?”

“Yes dear.”