Free In the Absence of You by Sunniva Dee

acting like an asshole, but even worse if you thought someone was consciously disrespecting you. I’m damn sure that’s not what happened.”
    My eyes fill with tears, and I can’t remove my hands from my face. I’m in plain sight in this small establishment with white walls, white tiles, and the sun reaching me through tall glass panes with merciless morning rays.
    We’re in tight quarters. Of course everyone is aware of what occurred last night—me in one room, Emil in the next with a girl. Like everyone else, Troy could have overlooked my pain. I’m grateful, really grateful, that he took on the discomfort of talking with me about it.
    Eyes calm on me, Troy waits until I can speak. When I do, I’m in control of my voice again. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
    “Always.” He rises slowly, stretching and in no hurry to leave.
    He crosses his arms, broad shoulder tipping forward enough to showcase a solid upper back as he swings. All he does, every day, is bang on those drums. No wonder the man is fit.
    Four bites of an egg salad sandwich constitute a fine breakfast when all you want is to crawl into your bunk and shut your eyes. We’re ten hours away from the next show, and there’s nothing expected from me until I’m there. Maybe I should do that: take a Benadryl and sleep until we arrive.
    “Say, Aishe?”
    “Hmm?” I peer at Troy over the plates I’ve just shoved out of reach. From the door, his focus shifts to me before he jerks his head toward the outdoors and leaves.
    Emil shifts when I get up. I dig my teeth into my lip as I watch him watch me . My chest expands again, absorbing oxygen I’ve skimped on since last night. I count seconds.
    In the four seconds I wait, I see no sign of remorse, no sign he’d like to talk to me. Hung-over limp, Emil is expressionless, and I exhale so deeply it feels like my entire torso deflates. I exit with his stare following me until the front door slaps me with its fast kickback.
    There’s a small nook at the entryway, all wooden beams and plants, and I halt there to let the plague reign freely on my face. This is a face I can’t show anywhere—a face I don’t want to see myself—but I’m not strong enough to stop it from cracking through.
    The plague.
    The plague.
    The love fire.
    I. Am. Inflicted.
    I turn and peer through the window, seeing Emil’s profile. Again, he’s lost in the ugliness of the parking lot. God, my insides simmer and burn. They shouldn’t be simmering and burning. Scorching love is not good, I know this, and yet I’ve allowed my embers to be teased by someone I deemed safe.
    Oh I am stupid.
    I need to talk with Shandor. Maybe we should leave. I have never been so close to becoming my aunt, my grandfather, my grand-aunt, my… sister.
    I’m crying when Troy’s hands cradle my face and raise it. I’d left the restaurant to find him, but I took too long. He must have returned for me. “Girl, come on. Don’t cry. Please?”
    I nod fast, knowing I need to keep it together in this world. In my community, we rage, we dance, we cry and love and laugh and howl, not what normal people do— Normal is what I broke out for, and out here, no one would understand. Normal is soothing, sweet, helpful to me, a Band-Aid on a heritage I desperately need to lose.
    Shandor and I haven’t discussed it, but it must be why he broke out too.
    For an instant, the musical lilt of Troy’s accent makes me catch on to the layers of a different people than mine. I want to smile at him, but I can’t just yet. “I’m not crying.”
    When I meet his eyes, he doesn’t avoid my tears. He stares right at me, unafraid and examining, compassion deep in each feature.
    “You’re so nice,” I whisper.
    “Aishe. You have a friend on this tour, okay? One that accepts who you are and what you want no matter what that is. I’m your friend, not your cousin or brother or father. Anything you need, from hugs to trips to the movies to brawls with assholes that treat