Page 89 of Smoke and Fire
Difficult or not, things flowed more easily in my world when I took care of them myself. It had always been that way. Dahlia had already taken on too many pieces of my life, I had to stop the process before I gave up too much.
Instead of steering the truck to Dahlia's once I rumbled into Pineville, I navigated through the old neighborhood and sat in Dad's driveway with a sinking feeling.
Coward. Major, major coward. Unable to help myself, I grabbed my phone and sent her a text before I could stop the momentum.
Bastian:Sorry, forgot a few things I need to grab before tomorrow, and still have some laundry to do. Maybe we can meet up when I get back? I leave early.
Her response took several minutes to come.
Dahlia:Totally fine. Need any help?
Bastian:I’ve got it, thanks.
Dahlia:Everything okay with your sister and dad? Did you like the hospital people?
A wary smile stole over me, but quickly died. Surely, she meant hospice. Another sign that she didn’t live in the same world as me. Frankly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to bring her into it.
Wouldn't be fair or simple or safe or any of those things.
Bastian:Went fine, thanks.
Dahlia:This sudden change of plans doesn’t have anything to do with how much vulnerability you showed yesterday, does it?
Her question turned my chest to ice. Well. There was a point-blank question if I’d ever seen one.
At first, I had no idea how to respond. My thumb hesitated over the phone. The truth or a lie were my only options, and I respected her too much to lie.
I settled for somewhere in the middle.
Bastian:Probably.
Dahlia:I’m on your side, Bastian. You don’t have to do it all alone, you know? You shouldn’t. I’d love to help. And I’d love to see you again.
Her moxie deserved respect. She fearlessly put the truth out there. I swallowed past the lump in my throat and leaned my head back against the headrest. Nope. Didn’t want to deal with this right now.
Five minutes passed before I found the words in my spinning mind and typed a reply.
Bastian:Thanks. Give me time.
The dark feeling of being an utter jerk crawled over me as I climbed out of Dad’s truck. I’d just shut her and her kindness down in a cold way.
First, I changed plans. Second, I messaged her instead of calling. Forming words and articulating them in person was too much to ask right now. Third, I did the over-the-phone equivalent of turning my back and walking away without explanation.
Now, I walked into Dad’s house and fought off the panic. Sirens blared in my head, screeching around like strobe lights. There was no way to think through anxiety. I just had to put some space between me and this situation so I could massage it with time.
In the distance, the smoke plume doubled. Reports spoke of high winds overnight, and I had the creeping feeling that my reckoning with fire had just about come due.
23
DAHLIA
4:00 the next morning came fartoo early.
Bleary from lack of sleep, though not from a book this time, but from Jess him/herself, I shuffled around the Frolicking Moose with a coffee in hand, one-handedly attempting to do my job.
The constant flow of caffeine took awhile to chug my brain back to life. My phone vibrated with alerts from social media, but I ignored it for now. Those could wait for later. Residual release posts, probably.
When the caffeine revived my brain, I almost wished it hadn’t.
