The Thread Between Danny and Me

Chapter 29: I have a lot to tell you

Rojo came and forced his way onto my lap as I sobbed. Even now, the thread that connected Danny and me hadn't snapped. Instead, it felt like my heart had been torn asunder, and the piece with the thread flapped painfully with each beat, limp within my chest.

"Why Rojo?" I gasped. "Why?"

He whined and tucked himself further into me. His red fur mopped up my tears. And I cried so hard I saw black.

I didn't know what to do. I could call Ashley-Claire, but she was getting ready for a show. I could call my brother, but the moment he heard how upset I was, he'd be furious. I didn't want that either.

There was nothing to do.

Rojo nuzzled me.

"Thanks for being here," I said as I squeezed him. "You've seen me cry a lot, haven't you?"

I gently pushed him off my lap, then got up and went to my closet. Toward the back in a large, decorative box was my collection of Danny stuff. In it, I had my pineapple jean jacket, black dress, orange chucks, pictures of us, the sweatshirt he told me to keep, my science notebook with his note in it, his skateboard, and my drawing notebooks that he always doodled in.

I looked at everything, then put on the sweatshirt. It had long since stopped smelling like him, but it was his. I wore it a week straight when Alejandro died.

Even on adult me, the sweatshirt was still oversized, and I felt calmer after cocooning myself in it. I put the hood up and then put food in Rojo's dish before I laid back on the couch. Rojo tucked himself lengthwise next to me and the couch-back.

What had happened? Did kissing me induce some kind of panic attack? Is that why he hadn't made a move the past couple of days? But that didn't make sense, either, because he was the one that kissed me. I hadn't imagined it or rewritten what had transpired between us. He had leaned down and kissed me.

The passion of that kiss. A shiver went up my body as I recalled the heat and desperation. The way his hands felt my hips and moved around me. He wanted me at that moment, and I would've happily given myself to him.

I draped my hand over my eyes. Every part of me felt feverish. I was desperate to get him back but I didn't know how. I hadn't lied. I needed him. Was he really going to walk out of my life and not say anything, again? What would I do if he did that?

"I don't know what the hell is going on with you," I said aloud. "If you won't let me in, how can I understand? Is my love not safe enough?"

Tears streamed down my face again.

And then, it was as if my body went into shock. I suddenly felt exhausted. I shivered, turned myself into Rojo, and fell asleep, unable to resist its comforting lull.

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I woke three hours later. My head pulsed and my heart stuttered. My stomach growled.

"Time for Excedrin," I said, forcing myself up from the couch. I went to the bathroom, grabbed some pills, and swallowed them before finding my way back to Rojo.

He nudged me.

"I know I should eat something but I don't have the gumption to make anything. Or finish making the dinner I was going to make for him."

I reached for my phone on the coffee table and looked at it. No messages. That would've been too good to be true.

Time to order food. I dialed and ordered dumplings, sesame chicken, Dan Dan noodles, and cream cheese wontons. It was more food than I could eat, but I didn't care. I told the person on the other end my address and instructions. When they arrived, they could buzz me.