“You cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness.”― Jonathan Safran Foer

— Jonathan Safran Foer

Liam had turned to her in the night.  He was reaching for her, pulling at her hungrily, his mouth seeking her body.

“Liam!” Kali giggled sleepily, pushing at his chest.  “Greedy!  You need to rest” she said, but then she was reaching for him too, her mouth seeking his, her hands roaming his hard, fever-free, cool torso as she molded herself to him in the darkness of the room.  She knew they shouldn’t like she said, he needed his rest to make sure he healed properly.  But she felt greedy too.  She wanted him.  Holy shit she wanted him.  Watching him pass out as Aiden had cut off his hand had made her want him even more now, to feel him alive, to feel herself alive.  He’d spoiled her with so much sex in the few weeks they’ve known each other, so now, against her better judgment, she’d draped her leg over his hip, arched into him.

And Liam wasn’t pushing her away.  He simply grunted in response to her weak, half-hearted protests and Kali giggled some more and kissed him.  At first she was frantic, rocking against him, cradling the back of his head with one hand while the other skimmed down his torso, too lost in her own desire and arousal to think beyond anything else but right here, right now, and feeling him inside of her.  If he felt well enough to fuck, who was she to argue?

Only Liam wasn’t kissing her, and Kali realized that too late.  His right hand held her in place as he bit down on her lower lip so hard he broke the skin and… pulled.

Kali awoke with a start, sitting up in bed abruptly as she gasped for air and waited for her senses to return to normal, for her body to respond to her commands.  She was frozen with fear and panic, and with the suddenness of her awakening, and she could not move.  She couldn’t even turn her head to make sure she hadn’t been dreaming.  She felt no pain, certainly none related to the pain she imagined she should feel by having her lower lip ripped off, and she couldn’t lift her hand to touch her mouth to check either.  Had she screamed?  No.  She hadn’t screamed.  She was sure he would have woken up.  It took her eleven heartbeats, she knew because she had counted them, eleven heartbeats before she could move, for her body to unseize and allow her to look at the man sleeping soundly next to her, for her eyes to register the rise and fall of his chest in what little moonlight filtered in around the edges of the dingy blankets and tablecloths she’d used for curtains.  He was alive.  He was breathing.  His body was warm.

But it would be a long time before Kali found sleep again that night.

There are times when a person wonders if they can’t sleep because the mind won’t shut down, or if it won’t shut down because they can’t sleep.  And that’s where Kali was at that moment.  Naked, warm, soft, and relatively safe.  Creepers couldn’t climb the ladder, and even missing a hand, she had no doubt as to Liam’s strength and ability to keep her safe.  He’d been a soldier at some point, or so he claimed.  He acted like it, so maybe it was true.  Who could prove anything nowadays?  “Oh let me just Google you!”

Sometimes it felt like that movie, the one with Mel Gibson and the foil hats, where everything happened for a reason.

Kali had thought that happiness was a heavy purse.  If she hadn’t been an only child, she probably wouldn’t have been spoiled.  If her parents hadn’t been poor, she probably wouldn’t looked for money and someone else to spoil her.  She probably wouldn’t have been dazzled with boys who flashed money and her father would not have sent her to California.  She would have stayed in New York and she probably would be dead now, or turned into a Creeper.

That thought, that happiness lay in flash, cash, and a velvet box was what had made her turn to Buck and all the shiny things he had to offer her.  Seems he thought the same way, and in the end being with Buck was what had gotten her out of Oakland and on her way to Arklay when things went bad.  She probably would have stayed, hoping things blew over.  She probably would be dead now too.

And Buck looking for his own heavy purse was what had landed him at the bottom of that ravine, sure she’d given him a nice hard push, but whatever.

Kali slipped out of bed and pulled on a t-shirt and went to sit at the table.  She packed her pipe with weed, took a few hits, hoping it would help calm her nerves and let her sleep.  But she found herself picking up her notebook instead.

Is it really bad to be selfish?  I accused Serina of being selfish, ‘cause she wanted to keep Aiden safe.  She was worried of being alone, of being left behind, and she made it sound like it wasn’t Aiden’s life that really mattered to her, but what would be left of hers when he was gone.  Yeah I know she didn’t want shit to happen to him, it wasn’t what she meant, but it was the way she said it, like she didn’t even know Aiden or the things he felt he needed to do to be happy.

But what the fuck do I know? Now what the fuck do I say?  Liam lost a hand, and I want to protect him, keep him safe.  I regret not trying harder, not being able to rewind and do over.  I don’t fucking know.  He’d be miserable, I think, if he couldn’t do the things he does.  He’s not the kind of man that sits and waits for shit to happen and others to take care of them.  Right?  We haven’t known each other that long, what the fuck do I know about what would make him happy?  Like would he be happier if he had just sat around somewhere safe and still had both hands?  He’d be itching to do something with them then, I think, and miserable.  Funny thing is, he’s already up and walking around.  Like he ain’t letting this shit tie him to the bed.  And me?  I’m fuckin’ moping around like it had been me who lost a hand.

Kali abruptly closed the notebook.  One thing she’d learned about writing shit down had been that it did help clear her head, put things in perspective, even if no one ever read them, not even herself.  And right now her perspective was that he was alive, walking around.  He wasn’t sick or feverish.  He was as strong as ever, and she had no right to be moping around for him.

And that trying to protect everyone from harm, would probably be protecting them from happiness too.