Page 64 of Embers

Hating himself.

And missing me.

Loving me.

In the past months, I’ve gone through whole weeks where I try to convince myself I was a fool. I was too young. Too naive. Too easily duped. And that I should have known better than to fall for him.

But I was right back then when I trusted that Cal loves me, and I’m right in this moment as I come to the inescapable conclusion that he always will.

Everything he did was because he loves me. He simply refused to let me love him.

It’s still heartbreaking. Every bit as heartbreaking as it was when he first walked out. But I can’t be purely angry with him anymore, and I can’t imagine him in any sort of content, peaceful life. He’s trying to sleep tonight like I am. Somewhere out there in the dark. And he’s thinking about me. Missing me. Dying to be close to me again.

The tears that burn my eyes are as much for him as for me. My shoulders shake as I suppress the sobs. If I cried out loud, someone would come over to comfort me, but I don’t want anyone to know I’m this weak.

I’m still in love with the man who hurt me, left me, walked away, betrayed my trust. I love him as much today as I did three months ago.

My attempt to stifle my weeping is almost painful, but I manage to make no sounds. But after a few minutes, I feel a hand on my shoulder. Just resting there. Comforting.

I turn my head and see Anna. She’s stretched her sleeping bag out beside mine, and right now she’s sitting up next to me. She doesn’t say anything. Just keeps her hand on my shoulder until my shaking finally subsides.

It’s only then that I roll over. I murmur hoarsely in the dark, “How do you stop yourself from loving someone?”

Her face twists briefly. “I don’t know. I wish I did.”

I wipe away the last of my tears. I don’t need to say anymore. Anna already knows why I was crying. Then I sit up because I actually feel a little better. With a sniffle, I ask softly, “Did Mack take off?”

“Yeah. He and the others are headed back to the bunker in the morning.”

Despite my own inner turmoil, I experience a prickle of curiosity. “Don’t you want him for your man?”

Her mouth twists again, but I’m not sure if it’s upset or confusion or discomfort. “Anyone would want Mack. He’s the best guy I’ve ever known.”

“He is. Definitely. I don’t think I’ve ever met better.” I pause. Then decide there’s no reason not to ask. “So what’s the problem?”

“I had a man. Back before Impact.” Anna is looking away, her eyes focused on the dark mid-distance. “He did nothing but hurt me.”

“Shit. I’m sorry.” It’s not an unusual story. More than half the women with Maria have been hurt badly by men.

She clears her throat and gives her head a little shake. “It sounds terrible. And I feel so guilty when I admit it. But I’m so much happier now—after living through an apocalypse where so many people have died—than I was back then.”

“I don’t think that’s terrible. I think it makes sense. At least you’re free now.”

“Yeah. And I want to stay that way. I’m afraid to tie myself to a man again, even one as good as Mack is.”

“Well, that’s okay. People want and need different things. You don’t need to have a man.” I smile at her, feeling a kind of kinship I believed for a long time I couldn’t feel for more than one person at a time. I was wrong about that. My heart is bigger than I realized. I can care about so many people, and they can care about me. “I’m probably going to be with you in that.”

She frowns. “You really don’t want a man?”

“I think it’s too late for me. I had a man, and I still can’t make myself want anyone else.”

“That might change, but if it doesn’t, that’s okay too. We can take care of ourselves. And each other.”

My smile is slightly wobbly. “That’s right. We can do that. We’ll be all right.”

12

Year Six after Impact, Spring

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