I woke to the gentle sound of my alarm the next morning, and my eyes shot open, hands scrambling for the device to shut it off before it woke Emery. When the room was silent again, I snuck a glance in his direction.
He was still just a rumple of body under the big comforter, the sides of it pulled free from where it had been tucked under the bed. One foot stuck out and hung over the side of the bed, and his hair peeked out from the opposite end, the only proof there was a human there at all.
Inhaling a deep breath and letting it go softly, I scrubbed a hand over my face, eyes focusing on the intricate designs that covered the all-white ceiling above. Kalo huffed next to me, laying her head on my hip, and I rubbed behind her ears until she was asleep again, my mind waking up slowly.
Last night had been fun, and the entire concept of road tripping across the country with someone I didn’t know felt a little less insane now that the sun had risen on a new day, but I still wondered where the day would lead, where the trip would take us. I glanced over at Emery again, my gaze falling on where his journal lay face down on the bedside table, the pages flattened against the wood to mark where he’d been writing the night before. I’d pretended to fall asleep quickly, all the while listening to his scribbles over the page, wondering what it was he could be writing.
You’re not reading his journal, I chastised myself, taking another deep inhale before reaching under the covers for my prosthesis. I never slept with it on, but I also didn’t want to take it off in front of Emery… not yet. So, I’d waited until he clicked his light off, until his breathing intensified to a soft snore, and then I’d carefully removed it, tucking it under the sheets with me.
Once it was back in place, I sat up slowly, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. I adjusted the prosthesis again before rolling the pant leg of my yoga pants down over it and standing, wiggling my knees until it locked into place.
As quietly as I could, I slipped on my shoes and tucked my yoga mat under my arm, making my way toward the door. The room was still mostly dark, the curtains pulled closed except for a tiny sliver in the middle which provided just enough light for me not to fall on my face.
“You can do that in here,” Emery murmured, but his voice was so deep and loud in the otherwise silent room that I jumped.
Flattening a palm over my racing heart, I turned to face him, but he was still buried under the covers.
“It’s okay,” I finally said, voice a whisper, like I was still afraid to wake him. “I prefer to do it alone. I’ll be back soon.”
There was movement under the comforter and then an arm stuck out, one thumb raised in understanding before he pulled it back under the covers.
I smiled, letting myself out into the hallway.
The hotel gym was expansive, with top-of-the-line equipment lining all three walls, but luckily for me it was empty that morning. I laid my mat down in the free space lining the large windows overlooking the French Quarter, stretching my arms over my head as I looked out at the city slowly coming to life.
When I was ready, I lowered myself down into a seated position, once again taking my prosthetic leg off and setting it to the side. I unwrapped my socks and peeled off the liner, eyes scanning the familiar scar at the end of my stump. Sometimes when I looked at it, I was removed from the memory, only seeing it for what it was and what it wasn’t. Other times, like that morning in New Orleans, I blinked and flashed back to the accident, to the blood, to the screaming, to the numb awareness that my entire life was about to change.
After my physical therapy had ended, I’d taken up yoga, deciding I would do it without my prosthetic leg. I wanted to build strength, both externally and internally, and I also wanted to find inner peace and understanding.
Closing my eyes, I started my practice with long inhales and exhales, slipping away from reality for a while.
Yoga brought me comfort, and I slipped into my practice easily, slowly moving to standing position and through various poses with my eyes adjusting to the rising sun over the city. Before I knew it, I was on my back in Savasana, eyes closed as I braced myself for the new day.
Thoughts of my parents creeped into my mind, as they always did, and I would imagine myself stripping those thoughts from my mind and dropping them onto a cloud floating by, just like my yoga instructor had taught me when I was thirteen. Anything that didn’t serve me, mind, body, and soul, I let go of in my morning practice. When my eyes fluttered open and I pulled my leg into place again, I felt at peace, walking back to the room with an easy smile and open heart.
The room was still dark when I opened the door, and it appeared Emery hadn’t moved even an inch. I checked the time on the small alarm clock next to his fluff of hair, frowning when I saw it was already eight. Our plan had been to be on the road no later than eight-thirty.
I’m not his mother, I reminded myself, ducking into the bathroom to quickly rinse off. I didn’t break much of a sweat that morning, so a full shower wasn’t necessary, but I did want to freshen up before sitting in the car next to Emery all day.
I packed up my belongings as quietly as I could, taking Kalo for a walk and getting her fed and watered for the day ahead. When the clock read a quarter till nine, I flicked on the first light, just a small lamp in the corner, and cleared my throat.
Emery didn’t stir.
I zipped up my bag, plopping it on the bed without care for being quiet anymore.
Still nothing.
Kalo watched me as I blew out a breath and I shrugged down at her, extending an open hand toward the ruffled mess of covers Emery still laid under. Kalo followed my hand, and then before I could stop her, she jumped up onto his bed, digging into the covers until she uncovered his face.
“Ack!” Emery groaned, rolling over with furrowed brows as Kalo assaulted his face with her classic puppy kisses. I scolded her, though I was laughing, and called her name until she jumped over to my bed instead, sitting with her tongue still flopped out.
“Sorry,” I chuckled as Emery covered his face with his hands. “It is almost nine, though… want me to make you a cup of coffee or anything?”
He shook his head, palms still dug into his eyes as he rubbed them.
“I was thinking,” I started, pacing. “Maybe we should make a plan. For the trip. Like, cities we want to hit, amount of miles we want to cover each day. Not that we have to stick with it to a T or anything,” I said quickly. “I just mean it might be nice to know what to expect.”
“Come here.”
I stopped, watching as his hands fell exasperatedly to his sides on top of the comforter. It puffed with the weight of them, and his tired eyes found mine.
“Come here,” he said again, patting the small patch of empty bed beside him. He was still practically in the middle of it, and he didn’t make to move to either side.
I swallowed, fingers finding the cool metal of the ring on my middle finger. It matched the one on Lily’s finger thousands of miles away, our promise to remain best friends no matter the distance between us. I spun it around and around as I sat on the edge of his bed, unsure where to look.
He didn’t say another word, just reached out for me, hand wrapping around my elbow gently and guiding me down until I was lying on my back next to him, careful not to touch my body to his, heart thumping hard under my ribs.
“I had a strange dream last night,” he said, voice gruff. It sounded different than last night, the baritone of it, and I caught the hint of sadness that underlined it like a shadow. “I’m not sure if I even slept at all, but I know I dreamed.”
I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to answer him, or ask about the dream, or just lie there. The third option seemed to be the only one I could manage, so I kept spinning my ring, eyes on the ceiling.
“I was an eagle, I think, or maybe a crow. A crow seems more likely. I know I had wings, and feathers, and a beak. And I was aware I couldn’t actually be a bird, I still felt human inside, but I was building a nest. I had all these…” He threw his hands up in front of us, waving them around. “Sticks and shit. Leaves and sticks and mud and just all of it was a mess. And I kept trying to build this fucking nest.” He was growing more and more agitated, his voice picking up volume as he spoke. “But nothing would work. The mud was too wet, it wouldn’t hold, and the sticks were too fragile. Everything kept breaking. And there was this storm coming, I could hear it in the distance, and see the clouds and the lightning. And I needed to build the goddamn nest.”
He paused, shaking his head. He shook it over and over, not speaking for the longest time. When he finally did continue, his voice was softer, almost broken.
“The storm was closing in, and I was still frantically trying to get the nest to stick, feathers flying everywhere from the exertion. And I was moving so slow, like I was under water. But then all of a sudden, I looked at the storm, at the clouds, at the lightning, and I realized I didn’t know why I was working so hard to build the nest. I had no one to build it for, no one who needed it, no one I was protecting. And I wasn’t scared of the storm.”
I pulled my eyes from the ceiling, tilting my head just a little, enough to watch the slow rise and fall of his bare chest beside me. I was on top of the covers and he still rested under them, the comforter gathered at his hips. I just watched him breathe for a moment, wondering why he was telling me this, wondering what it all meant.
“What happened next?”
Emery let out a long breath. “The storm came, and it washed me away. I couldn’t control anything, and the rain was so hard, it flooded me out of my tree and down into a low valley, the rapids dark and treacherous. But I wasn’t scared anymore, I was only upset I spent so long trying to build that fucking nest.”
The fingers playing with my ring stilled, and I folded my hands over my stomach. “That is a strange dream.”
Emery nodded, rolling over until he faced me completely. He waited until I tilted my head a bit farther, until our eyes connected, and then I saw the sadness I’d heard in his voice before. His eyes, so gold the day before, were dull and tired, and they watched me with a plea for something, though I didn’t know what.
“I don’t want to drive today,” he whispered. “I don’t want to move from this bed. Can we just… can we stay here. I’m so tired.” His eyes closed, the same two lines forming right above the bent ridge of his nose as he did. “I’m tired.”
I swallowed. In that moment, the tall, confident man I’d met the day before reminded me more of my mother, helpless and sad. I wondered what had happened to him, what demons he battled in the dark of the night when no one else was around.
“How about I drive today?” I whispered back.
He opened his eyes slowly, watching me, pupils fluctuating in size as they flicked back and forth between my own. A hardness seemed to wash over them as we laid there, the vulnerability slipping away just as quickly as it had come. I’d offered to drive thinking it would help, that it would make him happy, but it was like I’d disappointed him, instead. Or, maybe it wasn’t me at all. Maybe it was the dream, or himself, or life, in general. But suddenly I felt like I was the nest, a waste of his time, of his energy.
He didn’t speak, but I heard his voice anyway, asking me that same question he did the day before.
What makes you happy?
I wanted to know his answer, too.
I wasn’t sure how long we laid there before he finally nodded, his eyes still tired as he did. I opened my mouth to speak again but he was already up, covers thrown back, and I was alone in his bed. The ridges of the lean muscles that lined his back were all I saw as he dipped inside the bathroom, a stranger yet again, the door shutting behind him with a soft click.