Burn: ONE

When I wake up Zan is gone. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I check the time. One-fifteen. Groaning I fling back the covers, sliding out of bed. My back hurts. My arms sting. And I have a headache. There's wax all over the coffee table. The leftover matches are gone. Zan probably took them. I walk over to the window, pulling back the curtian. No more rain. The sky is a dim blue, little bits of grey. It's quiet. Peeling off my clothes, I dig through Zan's dresser-a bunch of multi-colored milk crates fastened onto an old bookshelf-fishing out a pair of wrinkled khakis and a 'Make love, Not war' t-shirt. I was in such a rush this morning, I forgot to pack a few of my own clothes. All I bought with me was the cash I stole, a notebook, bus schedule and tickets, and a sweater.1

If I'm running away, I'll need clothes. And I don't want to spend the money I have. I could go back home later if no one's there, pack a few things. Grab some extra cash. Or ask Zan to help me.2

Dressed, I go downstairs to the kitchen. Zan's standing at the stove, barefoot and in his boxers, singing the lyrics to Kids With Guns. I grab a glass from the cabinet, pouring myself som orange juice from the carton sitting on the counter. Zan looks over his shoulder and smiles. "Hey,"
He turns the tempature dial on the burner off. "Want some?" He lifts the pot off the burner. Smells like clam chowder. I hate clam chowder. I stick out my tongue. "Ew. No thanks."3

He shrugs and fixes some for himself. 4

We don't speak for awhile. I'm trying to figure out what to say next. The words are lost somewhere in me. I don't know where to begin. Should I start over? Zan's not bringing up this morning. We were supposed to talk about it. Maybe he's just waiting for me to mention it first. I want to tell him. Past tense: I wanted to tell him. I know I owe him an explanation. He knows why I'm here. I showed him. 5

Maybe he doesn't know what to say now. Maybe he sees me differently. Maybe I need to stop wondering and just ask him before I drive myself crazy.6

But I can't ask him because I'm scared now. I need to get out of here.7

"Hey, um, can I borrow you car for an hour? I need to-um...run some errands."8

Zan sighs. I roll my eyes. I really wish he'd quit doing that. 9

"Yeah. Just...don't be too long. I have to go to work at two-forty-five."10

I smile. "Thanks."11

Dumping my drink, I run up the stairs and put on my shoes, snatching up my messenger bag from Zan's dirty pile of clothes and the keys hanging on the hook on the back of his door. He doesn't say bye to me as I pass him in the kitchen and disappear out the front door.12