Xanadu (Lost)

Chapter 4: Don't Walk Away

"You little monkey, come here." As Claire reached for Aaron, a long strand of white goo laced its way down the front of Hugo's shirt. The wet stuff on his hair and back started to drip, warm and slimy. Claire looked between Hugo and the baby, fighting hard not to laugh. "Both of you need to be hosed down. No, I take that back, Hurley. You got it far worse." She wiped the mess off Aaron's face and chest. "Hang on. I've got to get his basket."

By the time she got back, the mess was beginning to dry and stiffen, and the sour-milk smell grew even stronger. Claire laid Aaron in the basket, in the middle of the kitchen floor. Turning to Hugo, a small smile still playing around her lips, she said, "So what are we going to do with you, then?"

"I should just go. Sorry, Claire, what a mess."

"You didn't make it. Funny, though, Aaron hasn't done that for awhile now."

"Guess he just got inspired," Hugo said in a weak voice.

"You don't have to go," she said, suddenly serious. "Unless you want to."

He could go back to his house, barge in on Sawyer and Kate, endure Sawyer's jibes, take a shower, go to bed clean and fresh-smelling. Or he could stay here, soaked and smelly, which didn't seem to faze her at all. Actually, he'd rather be coated in mud head to toe and dipped in dung besides, if being clean meant he'd have to be away from her. "I'll go outside and use the hose," he offered.

"Not in the dark you won't. It's around the side, and the outside light's busted."

"Man, does it always smell like this?"

"Silly, it's just milk. I'd offer you a shower, but that's out of commission, too. Tub only, and it takes forever to fill. Look, it's simple. Just take off your shirt. We'll get your hair first, and the shirt later."

He stood staring, hardly believing what he just heard. The last woman to tell him to take off his clothes had been a middle-aged psychic in a rundown palmistry studio on the low-rent edge of Beverly Hills. His father had put her up to it, it had turned out. In the frozen silence of the drive home, David Reyes had defended himself. There was nothing wrong with an older woman showing an inexperienced guy how to be a man. Hugo was crazy not to take her up on it. Then David looked over at Hugo's face, and swiftly shut up.

At the time, Hugo didn't know what was more appalling, that his father would do something like that, or that it took over a thousand dollars to convince a woman, even one as old and homely as the psychic, to sleep with him. It wasn't until weeks later that Hugo wondered how his father had even known that the woman was for sale in the first place.

Hugo still burned from the embarrassment. But there was nothing like that in Claire's tone. Still, he didn't want to. Even when he swam he left his shirt on. No matter how hot it got, no matter how hard he worked at digging or lifting logs, no matter if practically every other man on the beach went bare-chested in the tropical sun, Hugo stayed covered up. It was only when he crept off to the secret pool halfway to the edge of the Dark Territory, the one no one else knew anything about, that he undressed fully and bathed. Even then, he never lost the sense of being watched, never could put aside the fear that someone would surprise him, would point and laugh and mock.

Claire looked quiet and thoughtful, as if she sensed his discomfort. "It's just bodies, Hurley. It's nature."

"Yeah, I know, but—"

"Hurley, I've been to the beaches in Sydney, the ones where people don't wear bathers, you know?"

"You mean, no swim suit?"