Free In The Absence Of Light by Adrienne Wilder

no.”
    “Yeah but—”
    “Then don’t. Morgan has worked hard to be independent.”
    “This has nothing to do with independence.”
    “It doesn’t, huh?”
    “No. Not if he’s hurt.”
    “Yeah? And when’s the last time someone played nursemaid to you after a brawl?”
    Never. At least not of my own freewill.
    Jessie nodded as if he’d read my mind. “Me either.”
    A few more people wandered out of the bar. The neon sign overhead transformed them into red and black silhouettes.
    Another cab drove up and took a few more home.
    Jessie toed the gravel. “If you’re so worried about him, why don’t tell him you’re too tired to drive home and you need to crash on his sofa?”
    “After I drive him home?”
    “Haven’t you been picking him up every evening?”
    “No. He told me he’d hitch a ride with Marty.”
    “Marty Bower hasn’t worked here since June.” Jessie spit out a curse. “No wonder he’s been dragging his ass.” He started across the parking lot in the direction of the bar. “He couldn’t have gotten far, I’ll lock up and go find him.”
    “I’ll do it.” After all, this was somehow my fault.
    “You don’t—”
    “I know I don’t. I want to.” I took out my keys. “You take care of the bar.”
    Jessie nodded. “He’ll take Dent Hill Road as a cut through.” He pointed east. “It’s about two miles down, Water’s Way on the right. It’s nothing but a pig trail so you’ll have to look hard or you’ll miss it.”
    “Thanks.”
    I did miss Dent Hill Road, twice. I was about to give up and go get Jessie when on the third pass the headlights caught the reflective paint on the only corner of the street sign not swallowed by Kudzu.
    I was surprised to see how far Morgan had gotten considering he limped with every step.  As I approached, he held up his thumb and stepped into waist-high grass clogging the shoulder of the road. Just the kind of thick weeds snakes loved to hide in.
    I stopped. He opened the door and froze.
    “Why didn’t you tell me you needed a ride?”
    Morgan shut the door.
    I leaned over and rolled down the window. “Get in and I’ll take you home.” He walked, and I let the truck idle up next to him. “C’mon, Morgan. Get in.”
    The missing tic returned.
    “Morgan, get in the stupid truck.”
    He limped faster.
    I put the truck in park and got out. “Morgan.” He still didn’t stop so I blocked his path. “Get in the truck and let me take you home.”
    He pulled his hand to his side but couldn’t keep it down.
    “Please,” I said.
    Crickets chirped, and dead grass crinkled under Morgan’s constantly shifting feet. He made a half-turn like he might try and run but instead went over to the truck and got in.
    I slid in behind the steering wheel. “You should have told me you needed a ride.”
    He leaned against the door.
    “Why didn’t you say something?”
    Puffs of dirt mushroomed up ahead in the headlights and gravel pinged off the undercarriage in sharp bursts.
    We reached the main road. It was longer, but it would be quicker than crawling at a snail’s pace down a pig trail. Morgan draped his hand out the window and wiggled his fingers in the wind.
    “You told me Marty was going to give you a ride. Jessie said he hasn’t worked for him since June.” The knowledge Morgan had been walking twice a day for over a week sat in my gut like sour milk.
    He laid his head on his arm.
    “If I’d known you’d have to walk, I would have given you a ride.” But Morgan didn’t tell me, because I’d made it clear how much I didn’t want to. I scrubbed a hand over my chin, then squeezed the steering wheel.
    The hum of the tires and the rumble of the engine filled the silence. Deer watched us from the side of the road with their ears cocked, and I slowed down once to keep from running over a raccoon.
    I counted the mailboxes and turned onto Porter’s Creek.  The headlights slid across the picket fence. Colored glass flashed to life before