Knickers

Something That Burns

The car ride home is quiet and slicked with tears. I think Dom might have tried to strike up a conversation or two, but if I was inept before I'm incapable now. His words don't register. My heart is thundering over the sound of his voice.
At one point he stops the car and asks for directions to my place, but I can't give them. I don't even remember where I live. Am I homeless? Where do I fucking live?
Even if I knew I couldn't articulate left or right, north or south. The freeways would be impossible for me to navigate. Sure as hell I can't remember my street address.
After several minutes of what must be incoherent sputtering, he simply puts the car in drive once more and takes me away into the night. Several minutes of numbness pass before we pull into his garage and park. He asks some more questions that I don't answer. How much have I had to drink?
Dammit, Marley. You fucking idiot.
He opens my door, pockets my cell phone, and loops his arm around my shoulders, helping me out of the car and into his house. The stairs are a struggle. We fall down twice thanks to my tragic equilibrium. Each time he picks us both up and we continue along to his bedroom.
He seats me on the bed and asks me another question. This time he doesn't wait for an answer. He lays out a sweater and a pair of basketball shorts on the bed and ties my hair back with a rubber band. I call for him when he disappears into his bathroom, and whine when he reappears with a little first aid kit, identical to the one he treated me with before. Both my knees and both my palms are scraped from my fall. He dabs at them with a cotton ball soaked in something that burns, and bandages both my knees. Then, without any warning, he takes a baby wipe to my face and removes my eyeliner and lipstick, both of which I started wearing after our night together on the tour bus. I sputter like a child as he does so, and at the very least this earns me a much needed giggle.
He disappears again, this time for longer. I'm mostly dressed in his clothing by the time he returns, stumbling clumsily around with one arm in his sweater. He helps me into it, of course he fucking does. Then, he sets a bottle of water and a bottle of Gatorade on the nightstand, and very subtly nudges the trash can closer to the bed with his toe, before making his way back for the door.
"Dom," I say. He turns.
Then, like the stupid asshole I am, I throw the water bottle at his chest in a spurt of undeserved fury strong enough to deliver some semblance of angry coherence. Despite the clumsy throw he catches it fluidly, holding it up with both eyebrows raised in a way that says, What the fuck?
"Why?" I demand, slapping my hands down on the bed. "I'm an ass. I'm an idiot. Why be nice? Why not let me get what's coming to me?"
Dom sighs and sets the bottle back on the nightstand, kneeling before me and taking both my hands.
"I don't think you're stupid. I think you're hurting," he says solemnly.
"Why do you care?"
"Self-destruction in the name of pain isn't unfamiliar to me," he says. "Let's talk tomorrow, yeah?"
"Why not now? I'm fine."
"Goodnight, Marley," he says smiling a sad smile that makes my heart hurt. With a squeeze of my fingers, he rises and makes for the door.
"Where are you going?" I say. "This is your room."
"The couch," he tells me, pointing over his shoulder. "The guest bedrooms don't have mattresses in them yet."
"Don't go," I plead. "I know I'm pathetic. Please stay. Don't let me kick you out of your bedroom. I'll go to the couch if you want."
"I'd feel bad to stick you there."
"So would I," I insist. "Then stay here with me."
"I think it's best to give you some space."
"Please," I beg, the dread settling in my ribs like a boulder perched on my chest. "Bad things happen when I'm alone."
He sighs, pouting, and pulls his hood over his head. "You sure that's what you want?"
I blink slowly, suddenly losing track of all my limbs. "Please. Save me from myself."
Another sigh. Another pout. He approaches me again, pulling up the sheets on my side of the neatly made bed, and tucks me in with such tenderness that my mind is called back to my childhood. Then, he pulls a dainty pink quilt from his closet and dims the lights, surrounding us both in calm ambience. He settles on top of the duvet on the other side of the bed and wraps himself in his quilt, still fully dressed, and falls completely silent.
I think one of my hands wriggles out from under the blanket and sweeps over the duvet. I think it's looking for Dom. And I think he gives me his hand, maybe out of pity. And I think I grab on and cling to it for dear life.
I think.
Tomorrow, I decide, I will find a way to repay all of tonight's accumulated debts.
Tonight, however, all I can do is hold on.