I follow my bloody feet back to the car - 

I won’t-

-Go inside. But, fortunately, I keep a first aid kit in the glove box.

The sidewalk behind me is playfully speckled with red - and I wonder if that’s what the asphalt looked like the night of the accident-

I wonder if anybody passed by after us, taking note of the blood in the snow, and whispered a little prayer that we would be alright-

But who cares that much about strangers?

Pulling my dirty feet up onto the passenger seat where I sit hunched over - in something too like the fetal position - I clean the scrape with an alcohol pad - sullying the nylon- but not feeling the sting-

Kattar would be disgusted-.

That done, I find a clean patch of snow - scoop up a mountain-ful. Careless of my reddening hands I scrub my feet off in the powdered ice, scraping the pain away like sandpaper.

The cold should bother me, but it doesn’t. 

Vaguely I feel prickles like needles in my fingers and toes.

I guess it’s time to put shoes on…

Something warm seems to wash over me at the reminder-

Andrew, put your shoes back on! Mommy’s gonna be so mad. You know she told us to stay clean-

Rummaging through the mess of my backseat I find a pair of sneakers-

I didn’t even know I owned sneakers-

-And lock the house and the car doors behind me. Sit down beside my bloodstains - but don’t simmer in them - on the curb - and tie the frayed old laces I must have had in these antique kicks since late high school-

It’s a wonder. 

I was never very hard on clothes in my teen years - how could I be -?

I did next to nothing-

Somehow the only things that ever ended up torn or worn out were my pajamas - 

But then, I used to thrash in my sleep. 

I know because Natividad would complain vehemently to my aunt - she didn’t want to share a room with me - and I honestly can’t blame her. 

But Tia Maria refused to take her suggestion to make me sleep on the couch.

For all the little she had-

For all, she scrimped and saved on herself and me for the sake of Natividad-

She always tried to make the odds and ends we had as comfortable as she could-

I remember how she went digging through her closet once for old half crayons Natividad hadn’t used since she was nine for me to use for my ‘doodles.’ She always gave me the used envelopes and advertisements she got in the mail for my arts and crafts projects - embarrassed herself by asking permission to take old scrap paper from the people she cleaned house for explaining meekly that her niece was ‘an artist.’

I know she never believed anything would come from it the way Mrs. Moon did, but she still wanted me to be happy-

Maybe mostly because she was scared-

Scared of the way I’d sit for hours at a time doing nothing at all - like a cinnamon-colored ghost in the corners-

She realized-

-That if she didn’t ask if I was hungry, or give me permission to get food from the pantries I wasn’t going to eat anything -

I never took anything that wasn’t offered to me- rarely asked for anything, even when my shoes wore through and I could see my nasty socks peeking through the soles - permanently browner than they were white.

The only time I remember asking her for new clothes was when my nightshirt got that big rip in the middle that I’ll never understand, like a lightning bolt just under the collar.

I can still see the tired way she looked up at me from her small bed where she was sitting with a shoe in one hand, halfway between putting it on or taking it off - who ever knew the difference? She had so little time to breathe between her first and second jobs-

“Oh…”

And she asked no questions.

Never did about the nightmares - I guess she just didn’t want to embarrass me - but I don’t think I was in a state-

“Let me see…I have something you can use. I don’t want to forget. Wait there, mi amor.”

I still have the nightdress she gave me, though it’s so faded you’d never know - it used to be beautiful-

It was a frilly, silky, lacy sort of thing she’d purchased for herself though it looked like it had hardly ever been worn - and as far as I could tell the prettiest piece of clothing she owned.

She had to have gotten it long after her marriage ended - just because she wanted to feel pretty-

Did she give that up for my sake?

Or was that something that had died long before I came into the picture?

She used to do her makeup every morning - just to go and clean houses and tend gardens- 

She’s always managed to put a prettier face on it all - to look more put together than I have-

-Even though her clothes were usually faded - her hands discolored.

The first thing I bought when I made my first hundred dollars off of my paintings was this pretty purple embroidered cardigan-sweater thing that I gave her for Mother’s Day, though I think it embarrassed her a little-

Who knows what my own mother would have done with it? Cotton is extremely flammable…

Two months later, she rather hesitantly handed it over to Natividad, who wanted to borrow it for a night out. When she gave it back it had a stain on the left sleeve that looked like hair dye.

And it was the first time Tia…

I follow my feet - to the end of a sidewalk - and then another ending-

…ever looked at her daughter with such manifest hurt. 

The first time I’d ever seen Natividad look guilty.

I think I’ll go to the florist's shop, but then I remembered that I left home without my wallet.

-Then I decide to go to Kattar’s place - and pretend I hadn’t been thinking of that all along.

It’s a crazy long walk - especially with an injured foot - but it doesn’t feel long-

Before I know it I’m in front of his door, realizing I should have texted him first to ask if he minded-

Hey, is it ok if I come over?

Though it’s kind of weird to ask at this point unless I’m going to linger in the hall for half an hour before I knock.

His reply is just the single word  ‘sure,’ and I put my small fist to his half-open door which swings open at the first tap to his surprise and bewilderment - my mild embarrassment.

“Wh…?!!!” He stares at me dumbfounded - looking like he just barely kept from dropping the computer resting on his lap-

“I was already in the hallway,” I admit a little sheepishly.

“But why didn’t I…” he looks down at my shoes, and back up even more confused.

“Turns out I own sneakers?” I sort of smile-shrug, and the words come out like a question.

“Yeah, cuz that’s not weird…” he sighs exhaustedly, half-shaking his head as he shades his eyes with one thin hand. “Please leave those soggy things by the door and don’t wet the carpet.”

I start to comply with the request, but stop with my hand on the shoe-

He doesn’t look like he’s having the best day himself. I shouldn’t-

…Burden him with mine…

I almost get myself to put the shoe back on but I just-

-Want his presence right now - to be-

We don’t even have to talk or do anything if I can just -

…please…

But that should be his decision, not mine.

I know, but...

“Are…” my voice fails me -

I know - I only want one answer-

Selfish.

“Are you busy right now?” 

I.

Love you more.

I promise.

It takes him 0.2 seconds to scan my face like he’s analyzing a time bomb.

“No,” he doesn’t smile, saying it seriously as he closes his laptop with a soft thud, “I just finished.”

The second he puts his laptop to the side he hugs his arms a little frigidly - his posture relaxing into the natural - playful, easygoing - but I still -

Find myself frozen by the door in one soggy shoe wondering-

If he’s just doing it for my sake-

He’s always preferred the quiet when he’s upset but-

He holds his arms out like a little kid waiting to be picked up-

“Come here,” he says shaking his head with a slight, sincere smile, and I walk - collapse into the hug realizing-

How crazy long it’s been since the last time he hugged me. I hugged him…

“You’re freezing cold,” I mumble.

“I’m the frog prince,” he laughs into my hair, as I sit back against the arm of the couch opposite him. 

There’s just the slightest-

I glance at the computer to avoid seeing that faint hurt in his expression -

“What were you working on?”

-Hint of a memory-

“Don’t you want to know,” he says teasingly, leaning his cheek against his knuckles with a charismatic smirk - and if you didn’t know better you’d think everything was-

Just fine -

Just like -

If I’d never seen that look-

“Come on! Tell me…”

The night he woke me up-

“Won’t.”

I wouldn’t believe we were both keeping secrets.

And if I hadn’t-

Let go that last time -

We’d still be - 

Somewhere very different than we are right now.

*

“Lise…”

I remember him poking my face with one finger as I lay on my back with “A Tale of Two Cities” sprawled out on my face like a sheet mask. 

“I can’t hear you. I’m asleep.”

“Alright then. Alicia’s subconscious…”

“Whaaattt?”

“You’re impossible.”

“I’m impossible?”

“Never mind, since you don’t seem to care…”

He went back to scrolling on his phone until I actually took the book off my face and looked at him, and then he still made me stare at the back of his head for a full forty seconds before he finished his statement - not looking at me -

“I’m going to Australia next week. Eddie just got me a gig for a new TV series about cops or something like that.”

“Next week though?” I sort of mumble-whined, trying to rub the sleep from my face.

“Eh, we take what we can get when we can get it, and don’t complain about last-minute opportunities. It’s too hard to get opportunities at all in this world..”

“I don’t want you to go, though,” I said playfully, brattily, hugging him with my cheek smashed flat against his broad back like I was a stubborn baby, and he was my favorite doll. “I’ll be bored if you do.”

He turned and propped himself up on one elbow, putting his hand to my face with an affectionate smile I had assumed was just him teasing me - at the time-

“I’ll get home as quickly as I can so you don’t die without me.”

For a minute he almost looked…

“I should just go with you,” I mumbled a little abstractedly, a little…

“I’d probably see something interesting to paint, and it’s not like I’m doing much around here.”

…Too disconcerted, too love-struck, and too honest.

And for one second-

“Do you really want to come? We could probably arrange that…”

It was absolutely clear that he wanted me to come with- he was absolutely in love with me-

But in an instant, he’d hidden it again-

Sometimes I-

Be honest.

Often I-

Sometimes think-

“No, forget I said anything. I don’t like traveling anyway.” 

-If he hadn’t tried to lie and hide his feelings for me - if he’d just let me see how much he wanted me to go with him, I would have.

“Just make sure you come back before I starve to death.”

I wouldn’t have been so mad - I wouldn’t have even been in the country- I never would have met Etan, never would have dated anybody else - I n-

Everything would have gone so differently…

But he wasn’t content to share his secrets with me.

He’s always liked to keep his humanity private.

“Just go to the grocery store. I taught you how to drive.”

“I still get dizzy every time.”

Closing the doors in his heart as quickly as I could open mine-

Why…?

“Fine.”

...Are you so afraid of being mortal?

He rolled his eyes, as he went back to his phone, leaning his pretty head against my shoulder so his soft, chestnut hair dusted my face like a silky paintbrush.

“Ugh! The things I do for you…”

But never that.