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But if he knows I’m ogling him, he doesn’t seem to care. He barely even looks at me, barely acknowledges me. Just gets into bed, back facing my way.
“Max,” I say softly.
Silence.
I could keep him awake.
I don’t know why I’m so afraid to go to sleep.
Why I’m afraid to let him sleep.
Something about the darkness…
“Max,” I say again. “I saw the demon lady when you were with Rose. She told me you would choose her. Choose Hell.” I pause, waiting for a reaction. There is none. “Why would she say that?” My voice is so quiet in the room.
He moves slightly. Then, “I don’t know, Ada.” Barely audible.
He doesn’t even care that I saw her.
That she told me that.
Something inside me starts to crumble and I fight to keep it together.
I get up, go into the washroom, take off my makeup, stare at myself in the mirror, at the leftover smudges of eyeliner that won’t budge.
Am I going to be enough for him?
Can I be his savior?
Can I really be anyone’s savior?
Maybe just myself.
Maybe that’s enough.
Maybe I need to save myself to save him.
How the hell am I going to do that?
I rest my head against the glass, closing my eyes, trying to gather strength deep inside of me, hoping that there’s enough energy to keep everything going for another day.
I feel like tomorrow I’m going to need it.
I straighten up, do my business, get a big glass of water, then come back into the room.
Max is sleeping, still on his side.
I get in bed, under the covers.
Then I slide over to him, pressing my chest against his back, putting my arms around his, holding him tight through the rest of the night.
Seventeen
“Dancing on wire, both ends are on fire. Cut me loose.”
– I Appear Missing
I barely sleep.
I’m awake most of the night, afraid that if I drift off, that I may never drift back. And if I do drift back, that I won’t find Max in my arms anymore. That he’ll have dissolved in the night and I’ll have nothing. Just a memory of who he was.
So, I hold on to him, my skin pressed against his, feeling the slow exchange of energy, like his heart is beating inside my own chest. Sometimes the darkness comes for me and pulls me off to sleep, but I don’t dream, and before I know it, I’m opening my eyes again, feeling his body rise and fall with his steady breath.
Eventually, dawn begins to light the sky outside the window.
And yet, there is no light in this room.
It’s dark, heavy, black.
Whatever happened to Max last night with Rose has followed him here, has slept inside him, and I don’t think the daylight will make anything look brighter.
Eventually, Max stirs, rolls over.
Opens his eyes and looks up at me lying beside him.
Frowns. As if I’m just an illusion.
“Didn’t expect to see me?” I ask softly.
He blinks at me. “Good morning.”
Then he sits ups, the bed tilting slightly as he swings his legs over the side, propped up by his arms. His back to me, he hangs his head. Breathes.
“Max,” I say, gingerly placing my hand between his shoulder blades, trying to give him energy.
But to my surprise, he stiffens.
Becomes a wall.
And the energy jumps back into my hand, traveling through my arm and back into the core of me.
Oh no.
“What are you doing?” I whisper. “Are you doing that on purpose?”
He puts his head in his hands.
“I don’t need it,” he mumbles.
“You don’t need it?” I repeat. I move my legs so I’m sitting right beside him, trying to keep my eyes focused on his face and not on the impressive and intimidating heat he’s packing in his boxer briefs.
I place my hands on his cheeks, making him face me, trying to give him that energy again.
He reaches up and grabs my wrists, pulling my hands an inch off of him, his eyes turning dark, a snarl to his lips.
“Don’t you dare.”
“I wasn’t,” I protest. “I swear. I wasn’t trying to read your mind. I just want to help. You’re drained, you’re exhausted, you need me.”
He swallows, clenching his jaw. “You’re right. I do need you. And that’s why this has to stop.”
“What has to stop?”
Us? Is there even an us?
“You keeping me alive,” he says.
Then he gets up, walks across the room to the window. I can only stare at him, not understanding. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
He doesn’t say anything.
I get out of bed and storm over to him, grabbing his arm, trying to get in front of his view. “What does that even me? You want me to stop keeping you alive?”
He grinds his teeth together, his eyes refusing to meet mine.
Panic takes over.
“Look at me!” I yell, grabbing hold of his other arm, trying to wrench him around to face me.
