After the curing sex was over, Carmen and I both pulled back from each other.
Neither of us spoke right away.
There was an unspoken understanding that we could not simply stand up and walk out like nothing had happened. We needed a moment. Just enough time to breathe, to let our heads catch up with what our bodies had just done.
Carmen grabbed a change of clothes from the small dresser near the wall and walked into the bathroom without looking at me.
I understood why.
Whatever had taken hold of her during the cure had faded now, and her own sense of shame had come rushing back in its place. She had not been herself in that moment, not completely, but she would still remember every second of it.
As for me, I had grown almost numb to the guilt that came afterward.
Almost.
Some of it still lingered, sitting heavy in my chest no matter how many times I told myself the cure had been necessary.
Maribel.
Now Carmen.
Not even a week apart.
