Faster We Burn

to drive Trish back,” I said as Katie tossed what was left of the food.
    “What?” She looked at me as if I’d just announced I was going to the moon.
    “Yeah, I really need to get back to school and…everything.” It was the lamest of lame excuses. This morning I’d packed up my stuff and loaded up my car with it while she’d been in the shower. Like a fucking coward.
    She stared for another second and then shook her head.
    “Yeah, yeah, of course. You have to get back to your life.”
    There was another moment of silence, and it was awkward. After we’d become so close, this seemed very anti-climactic.
    “Thank you,” she said, tossing something that looked like leftover baby food into the trash can, “for everything. I’ll never be able to say it enough, but I don’t know what I would have done without you.” She set the dish down and gave me a hug.
    I tried not to hold her too tight, or pull her too close. She’d been hugged enough today, and if I were her, I wouldn’t want another one.
    That didn’t stop me from leaning down and smelling her hair and letting myself surround her for just a second.
    “See you around?” I should win an award for the most moronic goodbye ever spoken.
    “Um, yeah. I guess.”
    “Let me know if you need anything. Anytime.”
    I let her go and stepped away. She looked like she was going to cry again, so I handed her another handkerchief.
    “Thanks, Stryker.”
    I turned my back and walked away.
     
    ***
     
    “You are the dumbest brother ever. Seriously,” Trish said as I got in the car. “You are seriously going to leave her now?”
    “I don’t belong there anymore. I shouldn’t really have been there that long. Her mother was going to say something eventually and I didn’t want her to have to go through that again.”
    “You’re still a dumbass.” She moved the seat back so she could have room for her legs.
    “What am I supposed to do, Trish?” She could criticize all she wanted, but I’d like to see her do better.
    “Well, first I wouldn’t abandon her in her time of need. Second, I would have told her that I loved her.”
    We were back to that again.
    “I don’t love her, Trish.”
    She snorted and rolled her eyes before taking her hair out of the careful bun she’d put it in, to look respectful, I supposed. She hadn’t taken out her violet contacts, and she’d worn her black boots, so those sort of negated her effort, but it was a nice try.
    “Yeah, you do.”
    “Look Trish, I’m exhausted and I really, really need a cigarette, so could you just lay off?”
    Normally she would have made a snarky comment and just ignored me until she had her say, but I must have looked bad enough for her to back down.
    “Fine, fine.”
    I turned on the radio as loud as it would go and loosened my tie.
    “Here,” she said, fishing in my glove box for my emergency smokes. She held one out to me and put it in my mouth before lighting it.
    “Thanks.”
    “You should really quit, you know.”
    Every now and then Trish nagged me to quit, but then she still smoked, so it was a bit of a pot and kettle situation.
    “I will if you will.” We’d tried that before too. Turned out willpower was not one of our genetic gifts.
    “Deal.” She held out her hand and we shook on it. “But let me have one last one.”
    So we each smoked one last cigarette in silence as I drove us back to school.
     
    ***
     
    I texted Katie when we got back, just so she’d know we arrived alive. Trish saw me doing it, but made no comment other than raising her eyebrow and giving me a look.
    I dropped her back at her apartment and went back to mine. The place felt too big and too silent. Just the sound of my own breathing was loud. I turned on some music, not caring what it was as long as the sound filled up the empty rooms. “Holding on and Letting Go”, by Ross Copperman came through the speakers and I almost turned it off, but that would be admitting the song bothered me because it made me think of Katie. I wasn’t going to give the song that satisfaction.
    My phone rang and I knew without looking at it who it would be.
    “Hey,” she said, and her voice was thick with tears.
    “Hey.”
    “I miss you. Mom’s back to being a sobbing mess and Kayla’s trying to get her to eat and my family is smothering me and I just wish you were here. Or I wish I was there. Either way, I wish we were together.”
    So did I.
    “I’m sorry I left, but I didn’t want to start