I set my phone down next to the sink, opening a playlist that I sometimes fall asleep to.
Instrumental guitar soon weaves alongside the storm.
We step beneath the water, letting it rain down over our shoulders.
CRACK. BOOM!
His breath is uneven against my neck.
I hold him closer than ever.
As the mirror fogs, the light of my phone reflects like a beacon.
“You’re safe, baby,” I tell him over and over. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He trembles in my arms.
I rock him gently, swaying side to side beneath the warmth.
Squeezing a dollop of shampoo into my palm, I give him some too.
The sweet aroma of coconut and shea butter envelops us.
I lather my hands carefully through his hair, raking my fingers from neck to crown in slow repeated motions.
Foamy circles form under each hand.
His breath calms a little, at least until the next strike.
Rocking and whispering, I thread my hands back and forth through the suds.
It seems to be helping.
Feather light kisses on his lips, a rinse with the hose, bubbles melting down his back.
There we stand while the sky breaks open above us.
My arms are a safe haven from the world outside.
“I've got you,” I repeat. “We can stay in here as long as you need.”
Thunder continues to echo, layer upon layer of sensory assault.
Vibrations shake the mirror and the floor.
Marco begins to sob uncontrollably.
I press my lips to his forehead.
His voice is raw and untethered.
“I... left her behind.”
“You left who behind?”
His body crumples against the shower wall.
His head tilts back, tears running down his cheeks and chin.
