The Lunatics 2: Push Tumble & Fall

Monday 7:15 p.m.

"I'm so glad you're okay." I ran to him and hugged his firm body.

"Myla. Where have you been?" Jonathan asked. "I've been so worried." He held me in his arms.

"I'm so happy to see you," he whispered.

"Are you okay?" I touched his face. He had a thick scratch that ran alongside one of his eyebrows and it was starting to bruise.

"I'm fine," he brushed my hand off his face, "It's nothing."

"I missed you," I said and dug my face into his neck. Jonathan smelled my hair like he always did.

"I'm sorry that...DeaDorian," he said.

"It's fine. It's okay. It will all get sorted." I was happy to be safe back in his arms again.

"I lost you in the fire," he said.

"It's fine. I'm here now. I made it out. We are all okay."

"I didn't want to fight him, but he..." said Jonathan.

"He can be jackass, I know." I said. "Maybe now he will like

you."

We stood on the stairs holding each other.

"Why didn't you call me?" he asked.

"My phone was dead." I said.

Jonathan let go his embrace. A look of concern landed on his face as if he had just caught me in a lie.

"Who dropped you off then? If you didn't have charge to call a car, then who just dropped you off?"

But instead of just answering his question, I made it worse.

"Why are you asking me that way?" I asked. "I've never given you a reason to mistrust me." And that had been true; it had anyway. "When the whole thing began at the cemetery, and you were fighting with DeaDorian, remember? And then the fire began, and I lost you and . . ."

But he interrupted my senseless explanation.

"Who were you with for all these hours?" He asked almost as if someone had tipped him off; as if he knew for sure that I had been sloppy with a guy. And instead of measuring my words to maintain control of the situation, Carelessness pushed my agenda.

"That guy," I said.

"Which guy." And the tone of the conversation became fast and flat.

"Harlan."

"Who?" Jonathan's eyes widened.

"Thirteen-Seven. The guy that played at the RedEye last night. The band you booked."

Jonathan clenched his hands. "How did that happen? How did you end up with him? How is that even possible? What was that guy doing at the cemetery? Did you invite him? Did he know the dead girl?"

"He was there for Loxi," I said.

"So how did he end up going home with you then?"

"I didn't go home with him! You are unfair, Jonathan. While you were busy beating up my brother, Harlan was busy taking me out of the fire," I said arrogantly.

Jonathan huffed and shook his head side to side. He could've brought up how it wasn't him that had started the fight and all he had done was defend himself against a violent DeaDorian, but this wasn't the kind of man Jonathan was. Instead, he spoke about the real issue at hand.

"Why didn't you call me?" he asked.

"Look. Babe, I told you my phone was dead," I said.

And my house of cards was falling apart. Because when things are not right, no matter how hard you try to say the right things, you just can't.