Free Never Wake by Gabrielle Goldsby

leaned close to see what Troy had been so intent on drawing. She had drawn herself on her bike with wild hair, big wrap-around style glasses, shoes untied, and grinning like a madwoman.
    “I ain’t no Picasso, but I used to like to draw,” Troy said as she studied her picture, and then Emma felt an overwhelming sense of weariness coming from her.
    She’s not sleeping. Maybe she’s afraid she won’t wake up, which makes two of us.
    “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Troy said. She didn’t look up at the window as she walked away, but Emma could sense that Troy was becoming weary of their one-sided conversations and was in need of something else.
    What if she doesn’t come back tomorrow? Emma thought, No, she just said she would see me tomorrow, but what about the next day and the next? How long can I expect her to keep me company with nothing in return? But what can I give her? You can give her human companionship. That’s all she wants.
    Troy had swung her bag across her back and was now rifling inside it.
    Emma wanted to call out to her. She wanted to say, “Don’t go. Don’t hurt. Don’t be afraid,” but none of that came out. Why can’t I just talk to her? She’s stood down there and let her heart pour out on the sidewalk, and you can’t even speak to her?
    Troy was looking up at the window now, her hand still in the bag. When she spoke, Emma heard the desolation in her words.
    “Can you just tell me your name before I go…please?”
    Emma closed her eyes. My name isn’t important. I can’t be what you need. I wish I could.
    “Why is it so hard for you to fucking talk to me? This is driving me nuts. I swear there are times when I’m sitting here thinking that I made you up.”
    Emma turned away from the window and the agony. Troy had a very expressive face, and her feelings were so acute that Emma could sense most of them, even from a distance. A loud crack close to her ear sent Emma sliding off the seat and onto the floor. Desperation overwhelmed her with so much force that it took her a moment to realize that the feelings weren’t her own. She hesitated before standing and peering between the blinds. One of the fists that had been balled at Troy’s side shot up in a gesture so violent that her bag swung out and knocked her bike over.
    Emma gasped. Troy had just thrown chalk at her window and then flipped her the bird!
    “Screw you, too, lady,” she said low enough that she was sure Troy wouldn’t hear her. Troy yanked her bike up and readjusted her bag across her body. In a few seconds, she would be on that monstrosity and pedaling off to wherever the hell she went when she wasn’t sitting down there on the curb.
    Emma stood up, telling herself to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach and the yearning she felt for the fierce young woman. She’s out there all alone and she’s scared . Emma found herself facing her front door.
    What are you gonna do? Run after her? Yeah right, you couldn’t run if you wanted to. The internal trash talk was as familiar as the fear. Both kept her rooted to the floor when she should have been trying to get back to the window to beg Troy not to go. She was already at the door before she realized it. Her hand went to the knob and then away from it, and then she went to the release button for the front door and pressed it. She kept her eyes closed. The buzzer seemed louder than usual. She sensed no surprise, no anger. She sensed nothing that she could attribute to Troy.
    Had she already ridden away before Emma had made up her mind to let her come up to the condo? Or had she just realized it wasn’t worth it, ignored the buzzer, and ridden away? Emma limped back to the window seat. Troy’s self-portrait seemed to have grown larger in her absence. She was right, she was no Picasso, but she had captured what Emma felt from her—a wild joy with a nucleus of sadness.
    Emma remembered how Troy had cried that first day. Troy had seemed so sad that Emma had been forced to