The Open Book

The Burning Girl

Here, a story I wrote a few months ago. Of the 3 people I let read this, 2 liked it well enough, the other loathed it. Will get to editing this soon. Comments would be swimmingly.

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You’re not quite sure how exactly it happened but one day Cee came into your life.

One moment you were sitting there watching a broken-down video of A Clockwork Orange and the next she’s splayed in front of you like a dead bird. Around her, glass shards and bits of your plant pots make a strange mosaic pattern on that carpet from Kashmir your mother gave you. She looked like she had all her bones broken the way she was laid out. Considerably, the girl had no wounds- but you were too surprised to notice this.

Torn between checking if she was alive and not touching her (godknows how many crime shows you’ve watched to be convinced that touching possibly-dead-bodies is a mortal sin), you take a good ten minutes staring at her before she starts moving and raises her head- a mess of red hair and bright green eyes.

“Guacamoles.” is the first thing she says to you. Before you can even do anything, she stands up, dusts off the bits of glass and dirt from her pale, pale skin, and proceeds to examine the intact bits of your apartment. You wonder why she doesn’t look a bit bothered by the fact that she had just crashed headfirst into a stranger’s apartment window.

She’s wearing a slightly dirty white dress with ladybugs printed on them. You’re still wondering whether you should call someone for help when she says from the kitchen, “Hey, mind if I crash your place a bit?”

You try to say “But I don’t even know yo-” and she immediately cuts you off.  “Don’t worry kid, I’ve got money to pay for that window, and your Birds. Heck, I’ve money for everything,” she adds. You ask about the birds because no way did you ever have pet birds and she tells you “Your plants, silly. Birds of Paradise. The ones I smashed in their sad pots.” Pointing to that strange red plant thing you never quite figured out what to call. She doesn’t even bother asking your name and instead picks it up from one of your books. “So Asher,” Her voice giving your name a strange twang, “‘s it okay? I need someplace to crash, until I figure things out, at least.” She repeats from atop your shelf. Somehow she had taken a liking to your books. “Awesome mythology collection you have here, kiddo.” She adds with glee.

That was about 4 years ago. Clementine Cinna- Maulogausse - her (supposed) real name- ended up staying longer than she promised.

You did complain at the start, then being a typical 23-year old hermit with a drab day job and quite unfamiliar with the whole idea of living with girls. Or, this one particular girl, at least. But each attempt you made to shoo her off never went anywhere- you couldn’t find out who her parents were, she had no ID of any kind with her- the only bit of identification she had with her was a necklace with an egg-shaped pendant, and unlike most girls, she didn’t chatter endlessly on the phone to call her “friends” who seemed to meet up with her from time to time (you’ve never seen any of them, but she periodically tells you she’s going out with someone whose name changes every time; sometimes you suspect she doesn’t have any friends at all).

She made herself a room- the one your younger sister used as a sewing area before the rest of your family moved out and gave you a place of your own. Anyway, no matter how you tried, Cee was impossible to shake off- she stuck to you like a determined koala.

Although severely strange and cranky at times, she had this side of hers that was pleasant as a thousand rays of sunshine could be. You never really told her but you did like having her around.

She wasn’t lying about the rich bit, too- Cee never had to work. She always seemed to have money hidden away somewhere, and when she goes off to pick it up, she always does it alone. One day she misses dinner and the next morning she’s honking for you to wake up so she can drive you to work in her new Chevrolet. “Move it pumpkin-ass! You’re going to be late for work!” she says each time. On those days you pinch yourself extra hard to see if things are real.

You’ve tried following her, like any decent person would, but she always seemed to scoot off to a different place each time. Not to mention she had a habit of walking very fast- sometimes you think that she’s gliding while you try to catch up to her and her secret hiding place.

She never tells you much about these things. Not that you’ve ever bothered asking her- you’ve kept to liking the existence of secrets. Mostly she just tells you things she likes to say. “Did you know that we grow extra-tall in our sleep?” she would say over breakfast, and then ask you how tall you are, comparing your height to the one carved by your doorway. Or sometimes she’d go off and talk about moonshine conjectures. Godknows what in the world those things are.

Being the quiet type, you’d just sit there listening and learn things from her that no one else has told you. For example: “Paradise Lost was bound in the skin of a dead murderer!” (over dinner); “It’s possible for your heart to go on beating in a solution of water and sugar for about two hours after it’s been removed from your chest!” (while watering the plants); “Love only goes as far as to conquering the frontal lobe!” (after watching a primetime soap opera). You’d just nod and say something like “Fascinating.” Then go back to whatever you were doing, but secretly keeping an eye on her.

She never seemed to get bothered by the fact that you never talked much. 

She never said much about herself either. The things you know about her were gained through observation: she never eats much- only candies and some green-colored liquid which she says is dew (you wonder if it’s a new diet thing); you’re convinced she fell in love with your mythology collection to the point that she stashed it all off to her now-room-then-your-sister’s-sewing-room; she takes a good deal of forever in the bathroom (“I am having bowel problems, idiot! Leave me alone!” she would sometimes say if you knocked a lot); she accidentally sets things on fire (even at broad daylight- to a picnic mat in the park, while supposedly lighting a cigarette- of course you never saw any of this because you were busy buying a Tweety Bird balloon for her, and you were damn sure she wasn’t the type who smoked).

The relationship wasn’t all that strange. It had the makings of most relationships- at least at night (the times she decided to stay in). Mostly though, it was an unspoken agreement (imposed by her, followed by you) that certain parts of the relationship be kept fairly quiet. Those were the only times, under a sea of sheets, that she would be quieter than you would be. Once you asked her why and she replied sleepily “Quiet things help me feel.”

Most of the time you never really understood her, but then she says “Oh Ash,” curling her thin fingers on you and you feel all the warmth in the world surge into your tired body. It’s probably not love, you tell yourself. But it’s a good feeling. You figured she has a talent for keeping things warm.

Pretty much things were perfect, the way they turned out to be: she being slightly crazy, and you, quiet and imperceptibly boring but happy. Plus your folks just love her to death- rosy cheeks, red hair, and all. They even asked in a visit once when you two would get married (to which you replied by saying dinner was getting cold).

She brings you a different car every so often- once, even a vintage thunderbird- and you, well, you try to keep the house cleaner now. You recently quit your day job as a columnist to work and signed yourself up for an archaeology course at the local university.

You never asked much questions and she only asked the ones you wanted to answer.  Things never got close to complicated until a month before your 27th birthday.

“Pumpkin-bums, pack your bags!” she burst in one day, a hat and some ridiculous heart-shaped sunglasses on her pretty little face. Delivering what looked to be two plane tickets on a small plate as you ate cereal she mused “Egypt is where we’re going for your birthday!” You try to dissuade her, being uncomfortable of traveling. Unfortunately for you, her mind is fixed. “Come on- you want to be an archaeologist right? Well, we’re going to check out some old temples- and I know how you hate tourists and stinky crowds so the places we’re going to are pretty secret!” she hugs your right arm and rubs a warm cheek on it and suddenly you wonder why you wanted to say no in the first place.

It was your first plane ride since you were 15. The plane was small and the airline name was an unfamiliar one. You tell yourself that Cee probably hired some private service for this one. How thoughtful of her, you think guiltily; you really aren’t that excited for this trip, but you promised yourself that you’ll enjoy it.

You insist that Cee take the window seat because you suffered from motion sickness. She didn’t seem to mind- in fact, she seemed to like staring out into the plain, cloudless sky most of the trip. Eventually you fall asleep listening to In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, and when you woke up, she was pinching your cheeks. “We’re here, we’re here! Aren’t you excited?!” she exclaimed, bouncing on her seat.

You take a peek out the window and all you see are buildings, bland sand, and the hint of pyramids. Everything feels suddenly warmer.

As you disembark from the plane, Cee leads the both of you to a dark-skinned man holding a cardboard that had something in Arabic written on it. “Asher, meet Actis H.,” Cee said, pointing to the man. Having drawn closer to him, you noticed how he had features indistinguishable to a particular race- a slightly cleft chin, pointy nose, chubby cheeks, green eyes, and bushy eyebrows. He smelled very strange too. “Tho you ah Athheh,” he said in his deep voice. “I, Acthith Eith, am pleethed tho meeth you. I haf been thold a loth abouth you, Athheh. It ith yoh bithday in thome dayth, yeth?”

You tell Actis that your birthday will be in 7 days. “So we have enough time to see the place!” Cee added cheerily. Actis leads you to a fully air conditioned car with your luggage already in the trunk and he tells the driver something in Arabic. The car starts to move in the direction of the pyramids. You tell Cee that you didn’t know she could read Arabic. Her lips purse and she answers “I know Greek and Aramaic too.”

Actis, in his strange lisp, attempts to give you a tour of everything you pass by. Most of the things he says you couldn’t understand. The only thing you caught onto was “cactus.” The ride seemed to stretch as long as the Nile so you decided to nod off to sleep, your head resting on Cee’s shoulder as she was saying how Actis’ last name cannot be pronounced.

Again, it is Cee who wakes you upon your arrival. “We’ll stay here,” she says, pulling you by the hand out of the car. Her hands have never felt any warmer. “This is Actis’ place,” she adds. You almost drop your valise at the size of the “place”. It’s an actual estate, an enormous white Mediterranean house with the matching swimming pool and girls dressed in white holding gigantic leaves that look like fans.

A group of people answer to Actis’ booming voice and pick up your entire luggage set, bringing them to your rooms. “He’s always been nice enough to let me stay here for free ever since. I’ve always found it better than those so-so hotels.” Cee adds as you continue to gawk at the place. “Actis and I go way back,” she muses. “Feel your birthday coming yet?” Cee smiles as she leads you up the house.

You look back at Actis and attempt to say thank you and then realize that he probably didn’t understand it. He laughed instead, and gestured for you to explore the place.

You and Cee have a lavish room to yourselves, facing a view that “had good sunsets” (as Actis claimed). Being slightly tired as you weren’t used to travel, you told Cee you were going to spend the first night sleeping in. She didn’t seem to mind. Suddenly, she didn’t seem to be bothered by anything. “That’s peachy fine, honey,” she said as she hummed a lively tune. You remember her asking you if you wanted anything from the nearby flea market before you dozed off.

When you wake up she still hadn’t returned. She had left a note beside you.

Be back at 11, feel free to do whatever.        
-C

PS Try the pool. Your muscles need some toning, Pumpkin-ass.

You check your watch and it was almost 11 PM. Then you remember the difference in time zones and figure it’s probably just 5 or 6 PM. I’ll let her have some fun you tell yourself while you fixed up to look around Actis’ house.

Actis, you are told by one of the house helpers, is resting in his study. You figured it would be rude to interrupt (not that you and Actis would have anything to talk about). You decide to follow Cee’s suggestion and hang in the pool a bit. The water was uncomfortably warm. Later on, one of the white-clothed women calls you into the house. It was apparently dinnertime, and you spend it with Actis.

He tries to engage you in conversation, asking about how you met Cee, and so on. You tell him the truth (how she crashed through your window) since you weren’t feeling creative and couldn’t figure out a sensible-sounding lie. To this Actis laughed hard enough to move the walls of that hall. You pretend to chew on your food for fear of being asked more questions. “You math ethcuthe me,” he said after his bout of laughter, “thee ith theeli thike that; thee nefeth thangeth.”

The rest of the dinner was spent with Actis explaining the (what you thought were) political structures of Egypt. You couldn’t understand a thing he said in English so you just nodded after every pause he made. 

Cee returns at exactly 11, just before you were about to sleep, as she had promised. She had a few shopping bags and a stash of something that smelled like some herb. “Here, I bought you some books on topography and museum pieces,” she said as she lay beside you, curling into a ball. You ask her about the thing that smelled like herbs. “Oh, that’s just some myrrh,” she answers plaintively before snuggling into you and falling asleep herself.

The next day you ask her what she needs the myrrh for. She tells you it’s for her future periods. “Helps with the blood flow. You know, when the uterus is acting like a mean bitch,” she adds. You wonder how she’ll use such a thing to ease dysmenorrhea.

You find yourself enjoying your stay in Egypt by the 3rd day. She tugs you around the city (you’re still not sure of how to pronounce its name) showing you the ins and outs of the place. People seemed to know her here- they just gave her whatever she picked out from the stalls and shops. Cee looked like nothing from Africa so you keep wondering where all their fond feelings for her came from. Maybe she was really just that pretty, or nice, or charming.

She still had that habit of walking very fast so by the end of each “walk” you’d be covered in a thin layer of sand, from trying to catch up to her.

Eventually, she brings you to some ruins and teaches you about hieroglyphs.  You find it strange that the places she brings you to have few tourists at all. “Actis owns most of these sites,” she tells you while kicking at some dust in an old temple. “Mostly, it’s just his staff allowed here. Tourists are ok, but he doesn’t like the publicity.” You ask her about Actis and she tells you he’s really just an old friend. “Mighty, nice guy,” she adds.

“Hey Ash, you’re turning 27 in 4 days. What are you going to do?” she asked that night. You tell her you don’t know, really. “Maybe become an archaeologist. The things you showed me here are pretty neat.” She smiles and asks you if you’ll take care of her. Not knowing where that question came from you immediately, instinctively answer “Yes” and follow it up with “Why would you ask that?”

“Nothing, really,” she answers. “Just making sure.”

On the 4th day, you decide to stay in again after touring another temple. Cee said she needs to help Actis with some things and that they’ll be back for dinner. You tell her to take care and spent the afternoon swimming. Afterwards you decide to peek into the things Cee bought just a few days back.

You’re surprised to find that she bought baby clothes.

“Who are these for?” you immediately ask her once she returned. For the first time, Cee looked surprised. “Oh,” she says quietly, “so you’ve found out… well, they’re for… a baby girl!” she tells you it’s for a niece she has in a province beside Actis’ estate. Somehow you don’t quite believe her on this one. Before you could ask anything else, someone knocks on the door and tells you both that dinner was about to start. Over the table, it suddenly felt awkward. Cee was ten times quieter than the usual and Actis was talking to some Egyptian associate over his mobile phone. Cee didn’t partake of the food offered on the table- instead; she was served some of her “dew”. It seemed to have taken too long to prepare so by the time it was served, she looked quite agitated. When it was handed to her, she grabbed it quickly and then, almost out of nowhere, the glass burst into flames. “Oh god, shit! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Cee immediately stood up and tried to pour water over the bits on the floor. “Shit! Crap! Damnit!” she was muttering as the helpers scuttled quickly to clean up the mess. She turned to Actis who seemed shocked himself and she said something in Arabic. He replied by patting her on the head to perhaps indicate that things we’re okay. You hold her shoulders to comfort her but she doesn’t seem to feel any better. 

Later that night you ask her if she’s pregnant. When she doesn’t answer you tell her it’s okay- “It’s not as if we can’t take care of the kid, you know. I mean, I have some money,” you didn’t want to add “and you have a lot” since that just made you feel inadequate. “You think you’d make a good dad?” she asks. You tell her, a bit unconvincingly, that you would try your best. “Even if I’m not around?” she asks, holding your hand. You wonder why she would suddenly ask that. “Why, is anything wrong?” she shakes her head and tells you that she wants to sleep. “I mean if you’re worried about me letting the kid play with fire, that won’t happen,” to this she just chuckles softly and buries her head on a pillow.

The next morning she takes a sudden aversion to holding things. “I don’t feel that well, sorry,” she says glumly. You tell yourself that it’s probably usual for pregnant women to start having hormonal bouts like this. You tell yourself everything’s normal and Egypt is pretty and you’ll both have fun for that day. You ask her why she didn’t bring you to the pyramids, only the temples. She said something along the lines of “Pyramids house those dead creeps. I don’t get them and the whole idea of death too. Sorry, Ash,” you could see that she tried to make you feel better when she added “but if you want, I’ll take you to one.” You told her it was okay and she didn’t have to. Really, you were enjoying things.

That afternoon Actis surprisingly called Cee in his study to discuss something. You stuck your left ear to the door, hoping to know what it was about but it was impossible to eavesdrop. They were talking in fast voices and in a language you were quite sure you didn’t understand. Pretty soon the fast talking evolved into a heated argument- Actis’ voice was booming through the walls. Suddenly, a strong thud made its way from inside the room.

You were about to charge into the room to see if anything happened to Cee when suddenly the door was blasted open by flames. The next thing you know, you’re lying on your back, covered by splinters and Cee was running towards you. “Ash! Are you all right?” you tell her weakly that everything’s fine and ask her what happened inside. From behind Cee you see Actis, his face was half burnt but he didn’t seem to feel any of it. You blinked once and afterwards his face looked like nothing happened to it. You tell yourself you’re just seeing things.

“He dath nath thook well.” You hear Actis say, “Thee, ah you thuwe of theeth?” Cee retorts in a foreign tongue and her words seemed to burn through Actis because he said nothing afterwards.

That night you try to hold Cee but she pushes you away. “I’m sorry,” she says. You tell her it’s okay and that you understand. She tells you again that she’s sorry. You try holding her again but she pushes; you persist and she lets you anyway. She had never felt this warm, in all the times you had held her. You were beginning to get worried that she had a fever until she suddenly dug her head into your shoulder. She hugs you like a lost child and you wonder if the wetness you feel on your shoulder is her tears or just your sweat.

You curse yourself for not knowing how to properly react to situations like these. You were a few days shy of turning 27. It was almost embarrassing.

She doesn’t fall asleep at once so you ask her how old she was since you realized that you seem to have forgotten (or maybe this is the first time you’ve bothered asking). “25.” She answers blankly. “No. You’re lying. Last time you told me you were 19,” you tell her. “Oh, did I?” She says without looking up. “I’m probably 20 by now, then.” “Are you sure?” Right after you ask, her face crumples into a frown. “What the hell’s your problem? Why do you need to know how old I am?” You want to tell her that you really don’t know, that you two haven’t been talking as much as you used to the past few days, and that you were getting a bit tired of all the sand. Instead you tell her something else: “You never celebrate your birthday. I wanted to know when your birthday was.” You say, your voice painted with annoyed defeat. “Why do you want to know my birthday?” she asks, slightly surprised. “I wanted to have a day where I could have an excuse to go crazy and kidnap you off to someplace like this, or” you sigh, “I wanted a day where I could get you a present just because.” She groans and turns away from you. “You’re such a sappy asshole” you hear her quietly say.

On the 6th day Cee didn’t want to go out of the house. Actis was nowhere to be found. Not really in the mood for any swimming, you tried your best to convince her. “Come on, I’m the one who’s going to have a birthday,” you tell her through the fortress of pillows she made. You manage to pull her out after a few times of saying “Please”.

In the flea market you find a pretty little necklace for her. When she reached for it, she accidentally dropped it into the lamp of the person manning the stall. Before you both knew it, things started catching fire. Cee started to panic and you didn’t know what to do. You just stood there as the fire travelled from one stall to another- wares were flying around, chickens were running about with flaming feathers, and people were running all over shouting curses or their gods’ names or both. From the canal beside the stalls, frogs started hopping around.

You start wondering if this is a modern reenactment of Egypt’s Ten Plagues and try to see if locusts are looming from a distance.

“We are so toast!” Cee said as she dragged you out of the burning flea market by the hand. Something was telling you that your birthday was not going to be as wonderful as Cee had initially said it would be. As you both ran, bits and clumps of sand mixed with camel dung mixed with spit thwacked on your face, you tell yourself that you’re not meant for adventures.  

“Thee, thith thid nott hathen bethaul,” Actis was telling Cee as his servants dusted you clean of the ashes. “Don’t be a stupid fuck, Actis, everything’s going fine. These things, they really do happen, especially after I decided to stop… you know, that.” You had no idea what they were talking about again. Actis’ reply didn’t help either. “Yeth I know, the thekonth woudth thah; yeth, that made us all theel thike thee thood thtap,” It had been the first time Actis had looked at you directly since meeting him. “Ah you theeli thuwe? I do nath think thee can do it,” to which, Cee quickly replied “Well, that’s why you’re here, Actis. That’s why you’ve always been here.”

That night you ask Cee what just happened with Actis. She sighed and said “It’s what always happens.” Quickly changing the topic, she asks you what your favorite myth is. You wonder if she’s trying to find stories to tell the baby. You tell her you’ve always liked the story about the sphinx. She asks you why and you tell her that you’ve always liked solving puzzles. “That’s so boring,” she draws closer and picks up your hand. Using her thin fingers, she starts drawing little circles on your palms. “Since we’re in Egypt, you know this story they have about the Sun-bird?” She tells you it’s her favorite story, “It’s the only one I remember best, really,” she adds before turning her back and wrapping herself with the blanket. “Maybe the only one I know.”

On the 7th day of your stay, you wake up and it’s as though Cee had washed away all memory of the past few days. “Happy birthday, Pumpkin!” she squeals cheerfully as she throws her hands around you. “Today’s going to be super!” she says. You find out today that you’re going to go to a special temple- the one that Actis hadn’t let any of his researchers touch yet. “So you can do some archaeology of your own, this time I won’t tour you.” You wonder if that’s a good thing or a bad one.

She brings you to a temple no different than the rest- a rotunda where the altar was, and behind the altar an obelisk. You were surprised to find things untouched, as if no one had touched them the last 1,000 years. You start thinking that Actis is really some powerful man to have such a thing happen. Along with that you wonder if Cee was in her right mind to have talked in such a way at such a powerful man.

Cee tells you to go do your “archaeology thing” while she fixes some things in her knapsack.

You try to check the place out but the most you could “discover” were glyphs, which you couldn’t read anyway. Cee stayed nearby the altar; you were about to ask her some help on the glyphs when you noticed her making a small, circular thing with myrrh and some twigs. You ask her what she’s doing (“Really, I don’t think pregnant women get their periods,” you say) and she replies by telling you about what this temple is.

“You know the Egyptians, they believed in this bird, the Sun-bird. They said it could live for 500, 1,000- even 12,000 years. They said that this temple, in the holy city of Heliopolis was where the Sun-bird would go to once it feels like it has to die, and from its ashes will rise a new one. Can you imagine that? An exact replica of what it used to be. Ever heard of that story, Ash?” It made no sense at all why she would go on telling you the story of the Phoenix in the middle of godknowswhere. You figured she was probably trying to continue the previous night’s conversation.

“I don’t get these hieroglyphs,” you tell her, hoping to change the topic. “You don’t have to really,” she says, continuing to make a small nest with the twigs and myrrh, “everything those blasted stones are saying can be summarized by what I just said.” You tell her it’s not funny for her to be making stuff up on your birthday. You tell her that you’d really like to read the damned glyphs and it would be most helpful if she would just tell you what they said.

“But I did,” she says, seemingly surprised. “I’ve told you all you need to know, all this time.” You tell her that you don’t follow what she’s saying. “These past 4 years- I’ve told you everything you need to know-”

“Goddamnit Cee! Don’t give me crazytalk again. Not now, at least. It’s my effing birthday.” You tell her, quite annoyed.

Cee sighs from behind you. “I suppose I should’ve explained things clearer, then. But it’s always been so hard to do these things, you know.” You feel her warm arms around your neck. “Sometimes, I really just don’t know where to start. What to say,” she starts musing, “if I told you about Alexandria and the floods, if I told you about everything, you wouldn’t believe me. How do you think I know all those silly things I told you before Ash? How do you think I know the color of Thomas Edison’s favorite shoes, or the makings of each damned temple I’ve brought you to?” You were going to tell her that you figured she read those things in books, and then you remembered suddenly that about 2 of the temples you had seen the previous days you’ve never even heard of in your archaeology books.

Cee sighs. With her arms still around your neck, she extends her fingers to trace out the glyphs. “These little scribbles are just telling you where the Sun-bird lives, which is here, what it does, which is mostly fly from place to place, quite unsure of itself, what it’s supposed to do when it comes back to this place,” she sighs again, “in case it forgets.”

You wonder if all pregnant women encounter bouts of craziness like this.

Suddenly she says “Ash, you love me, right?” Her voice didn’t sound any different but something in her did. “You told me you’d be a good dad.” She lets go of you and returns to the patch of myrrh. “Actis has everything ready when you get back. Everything. You can even tell him to ditch that stupid accent. He speaks English just fine, really.” Her voice almost sounds like its smiling as it says this.

“All of this…” her voice trails off.

You turn around to see her trying to break open her egg pendant. You come closer the exact moment she manages to break it open. Inside the egg happened to be white power. “What the hell is this, some crack ritual? Cee, it’s my birthday!” The tone of her voice doesn’t change. “This isn’t crack or sugar or coke, Asher. It’s what I have to do.” She spreads the white powder evenly on the patch of myrrh and says something inaudible. Then she looks at you, straight in the eyes and you notice something in those eyes- something that seemed to be burning. You blink once, and again to make sure you’re not dreaming things.

“Ash, I’m not really pregnant.” She tells you. “I mean, it’s something, yes, but it’s definitely not pregnant.”

She draws closer and kisses you softly. “Ash, you’ll take care of me, right?” It didn’t even feel like a question. She hurriedly takes out a small box from her bag. “Here,” she says, “it’s a cupcake I made for you this morning. It’s not much of a gift, but I hope you like it.” Her hands almost shake as she puts the box into yours.

“You can’t look at this bit,” she said as she emptied the contents of her bag and picked up a can of what looked to be kerosene. “This part’s a bit disgusting since times have changed, and I’ve had to resort to more convenient measures. But it usually takes place fast and it can blind you the same way it zapped countless others of their eyesight in the past,” not really knowing what to do, you stand there looking at her dumbfounded. She laughs slightly and turns you around herself, and then you feel her drawing away from you, moving closer to the altar.

Her kiss was still fresh on your lips when it all happens: soft, warm fire you can feel from behind you, burning and bright- casting shadows on the temple walls, but not wounding you. The fire almost feels like Cee’s arms holding you again. In your head you hear her say “It’s going to be okay, Asher,” and then nothingness.

Just the faint crackle of flames.

A few minutes pass and, squinting your eyes at the empty horizon, you wonder what to do. The wind howls from a distance and you realize you’re 27 years old. Again, you don’t know if you should turn around, if you should even move. Shaking, you open the small box and pick out the cupcake. It’s chocolate with sprinkles on top, with a small pumpkin-shaped candy. On the cupcake is written Happy birthday Asher!

You think of Cee, because you can’t think of anything else. You think of Cee and the cupcake and you tell yourself that since she made it just for you it should be delicious. You tell yourself that the best thing to do right now would be to bite it and taste all the love she put in that damned cupcake. All four years of that love- all four years in a cupcake, from the moment she crashed into your window to whatever the hell just happened a few seconds ago.

Just about the time you were going to bite into it you suddenly hear the soft but urgent cry of an infant from behind you.