* * *
Alma directed Glenn to the bed, sitting him down next to her. She looked him over, taking his wrist into her hands and examining the deepest cut.
“This is the one…the one Cris found, right? The morning after I left?” she asked, thumbing the scar. Glenn nodded.
“I’m so sorry, Glenn. I lost myself and I took it out on you. You didn’t deserve that.”
Glenn offered no response.
“I’m not asking for forgiveness. I just want you to know I didn’t mean to hurt you the way I did. You tried to help me even though you were sick, and I bailed on you. I was in a bad place, and I want you to know that’s not gonna happen again.” Alma looked over to Glenn, who kept his focus on the wall. “How’re you holding up?” She turned his head with her finger to meet his gaze.
“T-trying to avoid reminiscing, m-mostly.”
Alma canted her head. Receiving no acknowledgment, she stood up before him, hands on her hips as she looked down to him.
“Are you mad at me? I get the feeling you’ve been avoiding me ever since you came back, which strikes me as kind of weird since last time I saw you, you tried to fuck me.”
“Last time I s-saw you, you threw a lamp at my h-head.”
She cast her gaze to the side.
“B-before that, you refused me at the park in T-Texarkana, and b-before that, shot me down in T-tennessee. As I recall, you ‘c-can be the spark that b-brightens up my day, but you c-can’t be the fire the lights my l-life.’ A little n-narcissistic, isn’t it? Expecting to be a s-savior for someone you d-don’t even c-care about.” Glenn paused. “Having b-been one, I’m not a fan of lost c-causes.”
Alma stood before him, speechless, as her arms fell to her side. She drew her bottom lip in with her teeth, avoiding eye contact with him as she scanned the floor. She caught sight of a pair of panties she had forgotten to pick up earlier and subtly kicked them under the bed. Glenn rose from the bed, making his way to the door.
“Glenn, wait.” She grabbed his arm.
“F-for what?”
“I don’t—just don’t go, okay? I get that you’re bitter about before, but everything was different then. You can’t be mad at me for not cheating on my boyfriend.” She paused. “That week, anyway.” She tried to contain a self-depreciating laugh. “We’re different people now. You’re the reason I found my brother, and I swore I would help you get better.”
She leaned in, thumbing the scar on his cheek. “And I will help you get better. The same way you helped me. So let’s stick together on this.” She slowly brought her face close to his, halted by his index finger against her lips, separating them from his own.
“You want us to ‘g-get better’? Then do it p-properly. This isn’t a situation that’s just g-going to be smoothed over by sex. I t-told you I loved you, Alma. Nothing is going to happen b-between us unless you c-can honestly tell me the same.”
Alma brushed her hair behind her ear as she looked at him. She stepped back, turning around to put some space between them. Tapping her foot on the floor, she licked her upper lip, tasting salty sweat and a small piece of empanada from earlier in the day. She turned back around.
“I can’t do that.”
“I d-didn’t ask you to.” Glenn replied as he moved to leave.
Alma pushed him back onto the bed. “Stay. I’m not gonna pressure you to get groiny with me—even though I think we could both use it—just stay here, okay? Keep me company.”
Glenn exhaled. Alma searched around the room, looking for a relatively clean set of clothes. She asked Glenn to turn around, dropping her pants and taking off her shirt as she lost the bra. She slipped into an old t-shirt then placed her hand on Glenn’s shoulder. She began to turn him around, doing a quick once-over to look herself over one last time. After a moment of consideration, she left him as he was, grabbing some lounge shorts off the floor and pulling them over her underwear. Dressed in presentable pajamas, she turned him around.
“See? Sexy free.” She looked down to see her sleeping t-shirt was low-cut. “Well, mostly. But I’m not hearing any complaints.”
“I s-should go.”
“Oh stop. You don’t have anywhere to go. Pretty low on bed space as it is. Lucky for you, I’m great at sharing.”
She dragged Glenn onto the bed, laying him down. With him finally situated and not trying to escape, she lay down next to him, resting her head on his chest as she nudged his shoes off with her feet.
“I let you lay on me last time—it’s only fair.” She looked up to him. As always, he looked uncertain of himself. She could relate. He finally took his glasses off, laying them on the nightstand nearby. She lay comfortably, pulling his arm around her shoulder, over her, and wrapping it around herself. She rested on his chest, finally able to relax for a little while.
He wasn’t the most comfortable thing ever—certainly not her snuggy bear—but she wasn’t alone, and neither was he. Reaching for the mp3 player on the nightstand, she put The Killers’ last hope for a happy ending, “Dustland Fairytale,” on quietly in the background. Before she knew it, the rise and fall of his sleepy breaths nursed her to sleep.