Orange Sunday

5

It is a Monday night, but technically a Tuesday morning. His huge, furry husky is laying on my feet, which have somehow managed to poke out from under the blanket. Her ribs push against my feet as she takes in another breath.

His chest pushes my head up as he sighs in his sleep again. His hand drifts from my side to my thigh, a release of tension.

In the dark, I watch his face. There's not much light coming through the blinds; the moon is nearly nonexistent tonight. His nose casts a shadow over the left half of his face, but I can see the side closest to me crystal clear.

His eyelid is moving, just barely, as if he is watching something in his dreams. I wonder if he is watching me walk through his front door, my hair dripping wet and my eyes red and puffy. I wonder if he is watching a clear blue sky, searching for the baseball that will inevitably drop out of it and land in his glove.

I wonder if he has dreamt of me, all these years, by pure accident, as I have dreamt of him.

I wonder how I will manage to go to school tomorrow, considering that I brought nothing with me and have no way back in my house. I wonder what the hallways and bedrooms seem like now, with my brother gone. I wonder if my mother's room still smells like her.

I do not want to go back.

His dog stands, leaving my feet exposed to the cold air. Through the wall behind me, I hear the train whistle blow. A light comes through the window, allowing just an instant of illumination, as the train passes by on the tracks.

In that instant, I see him. His eyes are wide open, yellow around the pupils; his body underneath me is tense as he props himself up to see me.

"Can you sleep?" he asks. His voice is scratchy, deeper than I've ever heard it. I wonder if the one who left him behind ever thinks about their nights like this.

I shake my head. My hair falls across his shoulder, scattering on the broad plane of his chest. He pulls me further on top of him, sitting up and leaning against the bed frame.

He runs his fingers through my damp hair, his cheek resting against the top of my head. His dog comes closer, laying on top of both of us now.

His skin is all around me, his heartbeat vibrating through me, his lungs filling and deflating just beneath my ear; he is all I can imagine. Nothing else exists, nothing else but the train rumbling past on its tracks and the dog who rests her head on my hip.