Page 9 of Embers

It’s that glare that gets me going again. “I don’t want to live with you.” My nose is still running, and I only have the back of my forearm to wipe it with. “I only stayed there because of Derek.”

“You think I don’t fucking know that?”

“I don’t want to go back.”

“Well, you sure as fucking hell can’t stay here.” He gestures irritably with his head back toward what used to be my hometown. “Who’re your people?”

My people. I have none. Not anymore. “My mom’s dead.”

“I know that already.” I’ve never seen him so openly angry. “Who else you got? Grandparents? Uncles? Brothers? Cousins?” He’s driving, but he keeps glancing over toward me, breathing heavily.

“I don’t have anyone.”

“Friends? Neighbors?”

“I never had many, but they’re all gone now.”

He stares at the dark road in front of us, lit dimly by the truck’s headlights. The only sound for a couple of minutes is my occasional sniffle.

Finally I swallow hard. “Just drop me anywhere. I’ll figure it out.”

“No fucking way.”

Damn this man. I don’t think any person in the world is capable of infuriating me as much and as quickly as he can. “I’m not your responsibility. I’d rather be on my own.”

“It don’t matter what you’d rather be. The world is what it is. And all of it is just as fucked up as that town back there. You’re little, and you’re still way too soft. You’re not safe alone.”

For the first time in ages, I feel like I might be able to cry. My voice breaks. “But…”

He gives me another fierce glare. “Look, kid, I know you don’t like me. I know you’d rather be stuck with anyone else. I know I’m nothing to you but your dead boyfriend’s shitty dad. But the world went to hell two years ago, and right now you got no other options. It’s not safe alone anymore. I’m the only choice you got left.”

There’s no argument I can make to him. I know for sure that he’s right. And I can hate it all I want, but it doesn’t change the reality.

There’s no one else alive in the world who will help me. Keep me safe.

No one but Cal.

He is wrong about one thing though. I do have one choice. I still have that pistol. I can use it. End it all like I thought was going to happen a few minutes ago.

But even as the thought materializes, it dissipates into nothing.

I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to kill myself.

It might be easier, but it’s not me.

I start to cry. Nearly silent as the tears stream down my face and my nose runs even more. My body shakes so much I wrap my arms around myself tightly in an attempt to keep it still.

Cal doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even look at me. But after a minute he reaches into a pocket on his door and pulls out a wad of what looks like old fast-food napkins.

They smell grungy, but I use them to mop up my face.

They’re better than nothing.

* * *

Cal always gets up early, but I’m awake when he climbs out of his bed the next morning.

When it’s warm, he sleeps in an undershirt and his boxers. We’ve always tried to give each other privacy, but it’s impossible not to know what he wears to bed when we’re living in a one-room house.

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