I clench my hands and look at them, and see her hands around them. I need her. I can’t fucking breathe without her.
Why am I here?
Without her... I pick up her stack of sparrows and I hug them to my chest. I get my breathing back under control. I swallow an Ativan. Maybe I’m wrong, about the crying feeling good. Right now, I just want to go to sleep.
I wake at 3:11 with a nightmare. I summon her voice. “You’re okay. Don’t be scared... I’m here. I’ll be with you.”
I’m lying on my side, holding my chest, when someone knocks on my door. Bangs. It sounds so frenzied, my heart starts to race.
Sometimes I think of fires…
I glance at my shirt as I stride into the living room. I look out all the windows, but I don’t see flame or smoke. I am the end unit. Sometimes people get lost.
I look out the peep hole imagining her face—so when I see it, I blink once, twice, three times. Then my body goes white hot.
That is Cleo. Hairless Cleo, swaying on my mat. I’m so alarmed by how pale and thin and…nearly bald she is, I jerk the door open without another thought.
The second that she sees my face, she starts to sob.
“Oh fuck, baby…” I reach for her.
I’m surprised when her thin arms bat me away. “What did I do? You don’t want me?”
“Cleo... Jesus Christ. What’s wrong?” She sobs so hard she pretty much collapses. I reach for her. She’s so fucking skinny I can even pick her up. I haul her into my kitchen and sink down to the floor with her. “Cleo…are you sick?” My voice is shaky with a well of tears.
She folds her arms around herself and shakes her head. “You,” she weeps. “You wrecked me…and my heart.” I smell a bite of alcohol and look down at her hands. They’re marked with thick, black Xs.
I feel cold inside. Her hair…her face. Even her green eyes are darker somehow. Kind of…numb. I swallow back my tears and open my mouth.
“What? Just say it!”
I heave a breath out. “Fuck. The ventilator is a sign. It predicts death. Read any research on transplants. Goddamnit, Cleo—I didn’t want you to see me die.”
“I died without you!” She roars. “I died for twenty-four days!” Rising to her kees, she shoves me hard.
I almost fall over, because I’m shaking. I feel sick with shame. Regret. “Cleo... come here and let me touch you.” I hold my arms out. She backs away, and I reach my hand out to her. “Baby… Have you been sick?” She’s so fucking thin. She looks worse than I do.
“I’m not sick. My heart is sick!” She fumbles to her feet and grips the counter. “I kept giving blood for you.” She grabs hold of my refrigerator door and sobs. I scoop her up again. How good it feels. I bring take her to my bed.
The room looks different. All the lights outside the windows…
I feel warm again. Her blood in my veins buzzes.
KELLAN. I HOLD HIM, CLAW AT HIM. Wrap myself around him. “I’m so sorry. I missed you. You smell good.” I kiss him between the words. He kisses me. Our passion starts out slow but builds faster. I grope his cock, his rock-hard cock. His hand delves into my pants.
He pushes some papers off the bed. His fingers wriggle in my pussy. He’s leaning down to lick me... Tonguing me gently, whipping me with his tongue.
I come, and then he turns me over and pushes into me.
I’m so full. He’s so thick. I’m wet. My clit throbs.
“Kellan!”
We come at the same time. He jets into me. He sags against me, and the weight of his body, his familiar feel and smell, make me feel like I’m about to cry again.
He eases me down on the bed, belly first, and gets up. He returns with a warm, wet towel. He cleans me tenderly. I sanitize my hands. He puts more in them and threads his fingers through mine.
After that we turn to face each other. Kellan pulls me into his arms. He pushes his face against my neck. I can feel him shaking, causing tenderness to roar through me. So many memories: us in bed.