Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 7

though it had never been slept on, and most of the surfaces were dusty. It was welcoming, though, and I realized how much I wanted to sleep. I had been lying in the hospital for two days, but I was unbelievably tired.
    He pulled sweatpants and a t-shirt out of a drawer and handed them to me. "The bathroom is right across the hall," he said. "You're welcome to anything in the house you need. But you should get some rest now."
    "Yeah," I said. I yawned. He smiled at me and squeezed my shoulder and walked out the door, closing it softly behind him. I put on the pants, but didn't bother with the shirt, and climbed into the bed.
    ****
    I woke up gasping and clawing at my throat, my vision blurred. I writhed on the bed for a few minutes, convinced I was dying. Eventually, my breathing slowed, and I closed my eyes and laid still, my body twisted up in the sweaty bed sheets.
    I'd dreamed of Cale, and the day of the fire. We were on the patio at his house, a few hills over from mine, and we were fighting about another one of his affairs. I was chasing him around like a dog, the way I always did, begging him to stay with me, to work things out. He was nonchalant, flighty, and didn't take me seriously, waving me off and telling me it was just a fling, and not to worry about it.
    Waving things off was a specialty of Cale's, I'd come to learn; nothing ever seemed to worry him. When I'd first met him at the beginning of the summer I thought it was attractive. He was always so calm and self-assured and together that I thought he'd be good for me, as neurotic as I was. I only discovered later that he wasn't calm or self-assured or together or any other such euphemism. He just flat out didn't give a damn. About anything.
    Like leaving silverware in the microwave.
    It was early in the morning, the day of the fire, and we were sitting outside. I'd already decided to forgive him – again – when the microwave exploded and flew into the brush beside the patio. Cale shouted and I shouted and then I went to get the water hose but it wouldn't come on because he never used it. And then he yelled at me to hurry because the fire was on the fence now and next door and I told him I couldn't because the fucking hose was dead and then we just gave up and ran out front and called the fire department, but by then the fire was in the hills behind the house and spreading fast. It really is something to watch, a canyon fire; even though you know there'll be nothing left by the time it's out, the speed and agility and grace with which it spreads is nothing short of mesmerizing.
    I could feel the panic rising in me as I lay there, and I pushed Cale and his hand-waving and his yard from my mind and thought of Michael's hands on my arms and my shoulders. I knew he couldn't fix things, couldn't fix how I felt, but I wished he was with me.
    And then he walked in, throwing the bed into shadow as the door blocked the night light in the corner. His hair was a shaggy mess and he wore nothing but a pair of gray briefs. They made his body seem even more oversized. When he closed the door, the light at his back made him look taller, and a little sinister.
    "I heard you," he said. "You were yelling."
    "I'm sorry." I sat up. "I didn't mean to wake you. I was just dreaming."
    He leaned against the wall beside the bed. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he wore that forced-neutral expression from earlier.
    "You were screaming for help." He pursed his lips. "You said my name. You talked about your house."
    "Oh…I…" I didn't know what to say. "I…I was dreaming."
    He nodded, and he made a sound in the back of his throat, like a scoff. I told myself I was just being sensitive again, but the sound pissed me off. It made me think of Cale when he was tired of listening to me.
    "Is something wrong?" There was a hard edge to my tone, and part of me scolded myself for being rude. "Have I done something to upset you?"
    "We did, you know," he said. "I did. I hope you get that."
    "What?"
    "I saved you," he continued. He was breathing through his nose like a bull. "And I tried to save your house. I saved people. Lots of people."
    "I never said-"
    "It was a big fire, okay? Bigger than the ones back home, a lot bigger. But I still saved people. I did. So…so you just remember that the next time you go to sleep, okay? I did help you. I tried to save the houses, but I couldn't. So…so just think of that."
    "What the fuck are you even saying?" I wasn't sure what had