December 5th
Chapter 5 — The Cuddler
Kateryna made sure it was her turn. A quiet word to Enzo, a faint smile, the right tone of voice. “I’ll take the shy one,” she’d said. He grunted and scribbled something down. It was done.
The room was better than most. A working lamp and sheets that didn’t smell of sweat. She pulled on her robe and waited, cross-legged on the bed. The knock was gentle.
He entered slowly, clutching a newspaper with takeaway coffee. Same as always. The Cuddler.
“Hi,” he said with a bashful nod. “Hope they’re treating you okay.”
Kateryna gave him the usual smile. “As good as can be.”
He took off his coat and shoes, folded them carefully, then lay beside her on the bed, fully clothed. She slid under his arm and rested her head on his shoulder. His chest rose and fell unevenly. She reached up and began to stroke his hair, slow and rhythmical. He sighed like someone being unknotted.
“Rough day?” she asked.
“Same as always,” he murmured. “Emails. Council meetings. Dog fouling complaints.”
She almost smiled. “You work for the council?”
He shook his head. “God, no. I cover them. Reporter. Sort of. Local paper. Means I write a lot about potholes and bin collections.”
“Not what you wanted to do?”
“Not exactly,” he said. “I trained in investigative journalism. Thought I’d be uncovering corruption, fighting the good fight. Instead I’m writing about pub closures and lost cats.”
Kateryna looked at him, testing. “Do you ever wonder about the kind of men who come here?”
He paused. Turned slightly to face her. “What do you mean?”
She reached into her robe and pulled out the newspaper cutting. The article was creased now, worn soft from being hidden against her skin. Heart thudding, she held it out to him.
He sat up a little and read the headline, eyes narrowing. “Grant,” he muttered. “Figures.”
“You know him?”
“Only by name. He makes a lot of noise in committee meetings. Always going on about the dangers of over-legislating morality.”
She watched him closely. “He’s been here. He’s one of them.”
He looked at her, searching her face for any hint of a joke. She held his gaze. He looked down again, thumbed the edge of the paper.
“Jesus.”
“I thought you were a good man,” Kateryna said softly. “Different.”
He was silent for a moment, then folded the paper carefully and placed it on the bedside table.
“I try to be,” he said. “But coming here… I’m part of the same machine, aren’t I?”
“You’re not like the others,” she said, truthfully.
He rubbed his eyes. “Sometimes I wonder what it would take. To really make a difference.”
She looked at him steadily. “Maybe you already know.”
He glanced at the paper again. Then back at her. His voice was quiet but steady.
“I do,” he said. “And I might just write about it.”
Kateryna nodded once and lay back beside him. Her hand found his, and she gripped it lightly.
It had begun.
