[ WP ] You just had a very close near death experience . You are shaken up—not because of what happened , but what you saw before you were brought back .

Camille juts awake in the middle of the night and clings to Paul, who gasps loudly. 
 
 He himself was in the middle of a dream where he was in the bowels of a volcano. He experiences a sudden heat sensation and cries out in fear of being drowned in lava. As he starts to wake up he realizes that the trembling heat wrapped around his limbs like some kind of mythological sea creature is Camille. 
 
 “ It was so strange, when I woke up. ” Camille ’ s voice is shaky. Her hair is splayed across Paul ’ s face and sticks to his lips. Tonight is her first night back from the hospital. “ Everyone talks about floating. Everyone talks about some fucking tunnel with a light at the end of it. But I was in a movie theatre and everything was black and white. No gradience, just black and white…and everybody around me pretended to talk on their cellphone as if what was on the screen was an old lover or friend that they wanted to both avoid and impress. ” 
 
 Camille ’ s thighs are wrapped around one of Paul ’ s legs. The first time he attempted to make love to her he had initially touched her feet, then her calves, then her thighs. She had gripped them tightly around his hand and laughed when he winced in pain. 
 
 “ A woman on the phone said: ‘ Oh yes, I finally got promoted. My original research has been published. I am finally moving to the city… ’ ” she whispers in his ear. “ The woman on the phone says: ‘ this handsome, successful man I know bought me an apartment with glass walls. He ’ s married and lives with his wife in another city. How are your kids doing? ’ ” 
 
 Paul attempts to pry himself free of the smothering heat by sitting up and Camille lays her head in his lap. He likes it when she spends the night because the act of being physically close to another individual, especially one of the opposite sex, feels fulfilling and comforting. He dislikes it when she spends the night because her body is too warm. He always sleeps in the nude with air conditioning on, even on the most bitter winter nights. However, when Camille spends the night, no matter how much he pulls away from her he finds himself waking up several times, the sheets clammy and sticking to his shoulder or elbow. 
 
 When Paul first met Camille, he thought that she was a witch or, at the very least, dangerous. She was seated nearby him and, panic-stricken, he found that he had to make three attempts at rolling his cigarette before he blurted out that she looked lovely. She muttered a quick thank you and looked at the ground in what seemed like contempt but what truly was anxiety. 
 
 ++ 
 
 He looks down and sees that her face is obscured by her mass of dark hair. 
 
 “ Is this what you were meaning to tell me? ”, he asks. He tries to sound as comforting as he can, though he knows it ’ s fruitless. He knows that she can tell that he couldn ’ t care less. He resented her even before coming to pick her up from the hospital. During the ride home she was shaken and muttered under her breath that she had died, that she had experienced death. He responded by telling her that he was too high to have that conversation. They returned to his apartment, they made love, and he drifted off into a deep sleep until his recent volcano dream. 
 
 “ Yes. When I died I was in a movie theater. You see, on the screen, was a beautiful woman, crying. She had pillowy lips and blonde hair piled on top of her head like crème chantilly and she was wearing a towel, then black lace lingerie, then a corset that is far too tight. Fat and skin spilled out around her upper back and under her arms like drooping wings but the man she is talking in the movie always stares directly at her breasts. ” 
 
 Paul gingerly tucks Camille ’ s hair behind her ear. 
 
 “ The blonde is crying hysterically. She bellows: How could you do this to me? She bellows: I never thought you would hurt me. I never thought that ugly men were capable of hurting me. ” 
 
 Paul yawns into the palm of his hand and stretches. “ Was he ugly? Ugly like me? ” Paul himself is slightly overweight. 
 
 “ No, you ’ re never ugly. ” Camille kisses the stretch marks on Paul ’ s belly. “ This man was absolutely hideous. Like a toad. Like a perverted uncle. With warts on his hands. ” She points to her pinky and winces. 
 
 Paul pulls his legs out from under Camille ’ s head and hops out of bed. He rummages through his desk drawer. Camille lies supine, her arms crossed behind her head and her breasts pert and opening to the ceiling like morning glories. Her nipples harden from the air conditioning. Paul notices bruises on her body, the scrapes on her arms on knees trembling. 
 
 “ And all he can do is apologize and stare at her breasts. ”, she continues. “ Then, flashbacks to a woman. A mousy woman with cropped hair, licking a breadstick, a shoe, a lightbulb, fluttering her eyelashes. A mousy woman on her knees, at the feet of the ugly man in a restaurant ’ s kitchen, as he holds other items for her to lick: a ketchup bottle, a spatula, a straw, as she flutters her eyelashes. She has eyes that take up half her face and drool spills down her chin. ” 
 
 “ Mousy? ” Paul mutters, now concentrating intently on rolling a cigarette. 
 
 “ Mousy as in she resembled a mouse. As if she belonged in a Minnie Mouse costume. ” 
 
 “ OK ” 
 
 “ And the blonde continues sobbing hysterically. She throws an empty wine bottle at him and the screen flashes back to the image of the mousy woman licking a wine bottle, fluttering her eyelashes. ” 
 
 Paul licks the edge of the rolling paper. 
 
 “ The blonde grabs a sharp knife and holds it up to her own throat, and the screen flashes back to the image of the mouse woman running her tongue against the edge of a knife, fluttering her eyelashes. ” 
 
 Paul smiles at his handiwork but then realizes there is absolutely no way to get out of the room to smoke without upsetting Camille. He lights his cigarette. 
 
 “ The blonde shouts: this must be undone. If you want to save our love, preserve our love, you have to undo this. ” 
 
 ++ 
 
 Paul sits at the foot of the bed and takes a few puffs before realizing he no longer wants the cigarette he worked so hard on, and passes it to Camille, who inhales the tobacco deeply, blowing smoke towards the ceiling. 
 
 Usually, Camille wears red lipstick. Her lips are unusually full. It ’ s the first thing most people notice about her. 
 
 Usually, Paul can tell where Camille has been based on red lipstick stains. Before he got to know her, he would see cigarette butts on the sidewalk near their apartment building stained with red lipstick. Prior to knowing her, he relished the fact that these artifacts were evidence that Camille had been there. He noticed a trend in what times of the day the cigarette butts appeared, and accordingly planned to be in those areas so as to “ accidentally ” run into her. It took several attempts to catch her. There were a few instances where he would see a red-stained cigarette butt, still secreting smoke, and find himself both frustrated and excited that he was within minutes of catching her. 
 
 After he got to know her, other people would see red lipstick on his neck, cheeks, the collar of his shirt, and know that she was there. Now, however, her lips are bare and leave no trace on the filter. 
 
 “ The man is sobbing, now. ” she says in between a cigarette drag. “ He pleads for forgiveness. I don ’ t know what you expect me to do to fix this, he says. ” 
 
 She sits up, facing Paul, and folds her knees to her chest as she offers him the rest of the lit cigarette. Paul sighs and puts out the cigarette and says: “ How could he know? Women always expect men to know the answers to impossible things. ” 
 
 “ But he does. He does know. ” She looks into Paul ’ s eyes desperately, as if trapped at the bottom of a well, anticipating rain. “ He knows that he must find this mouse-faced girl again. That he must not only make love to her, but it must be in the same place as before: in the restaurant kitchen, among piles of leftover food. ” 
 
 ( ( continued in reply ) ) 

