Page 57 of Fire

That cot. That fucking cot. It’s tucked into a corner in my office, beside a desk I don’t use. There’s a pillow and a blanket and it looks like something a prisoner would sleep on. Ivy swears it’s fine, but…

It’s not.

Every night, she marches upstairs to that stupid contraption, and I feel like an asshole stretched out on an award-winning mattress with three layers of memory foam supporting my spine for the perfect night’s sleep.

“What’s on your mind?” Ivy asks. She’s perched on a stool at the counter, sipping wine while I cook up Thai Cashew Chicken for dinner. It’s a favorite at the station, even among the pickiest eaters, so I’m betting it’ll be a win for Ivy and Nell. But, just in case it’s too spicy for a six-year-old, I have a bottle of sweet and sour sauce and some chicken set aside as plan B.

“Nothing big.” I scrape the sides of the bowl with my whisk, then go to town combining the ingredients for the sauce like I can solve the cot problem by serving the perfect dinner. “Why do you ask?”

Ivy widens her eyes, watching me like I’m losing my mind. “You’re stirring that sauce like it dissed your mom.”

I put the bowl down and lean on the counter. “Switch rooms with me.”

“What? No. Why would I take your room?”

“I can’t stand the thought of you on that cot.”

“Don’t be silly.” Ivy sips her wine. “I’m fine.”

“You can’t be.” I toss diced chicken into the wok. The meat sizzles and I throw in some garlic, inhaling as the mixture becomes fragrant. “I’ve seen prison rooms that look more inviting.”

“You’ve been to prison?” Ivy arches a brow, her eyes twinkling with humor. The more time she spends with me, the more she reminds me of the girl I used to love, totally willing to bust my balls…or to dig in her heels when I’m trying to get her to do something she doesn’t like.

“No. But I do watch a lot of TV, thank you very much.”

“Micah, I’m fine, I promise.”

But the answer doesn’t make me feel any better. “If you switch rooms with me, you’ll have a king-sized bed, a walk-in closet, and a bathroom all to yourself with a whirlpool corner tub big enough to fit two people.”

I push the chicken to the side of the wok, add in a mixture of veggies and stir until they take on color, then pour in the sauce and cashews. When everything looks about right, I scoop a mouthful onto a spoon and carry it over to Ivy. Her lips part as she accepts the bite, then she sags onto the counter, moaning and groaning and damn all this one-time thing nonsense. I want to be the reason she sounds like that, not some stupid piece of chicken.

“Holy shit! Micah! I can’t believe you grew up to be good in the kitchen!”

“I grew up to be good in lots of rooms.” I smile suggestively, but that’s all I’ll say on the topic. Ivy said she needs space. I’m giving her space. The last time things got hard in our relationship, she broke up with me and disappeared, then conveniently forgot that part of the story. If I push too hard on the topic of one-time things, will she run away again? I’m not willing to find out, so that’s it on the innuendo.

“I think it needs a bit more salt,” I say. “Just like you need an actual bed in a room that’s not an office.”

“I’m fine, Mi. I really am. It’s enough that you gave me a place to stay. You don’t have to give me your bedroom, too. I made choices that led to me sleeping on a cot. It’s time I learn to deal with the consequences of my actions without letting other people fix everything for me.”

She’s not gonna budge on this topic. I can hear it in her voice. Her heels are dug firmly in and while a lot about Ivy has changed, I doubt this is one of them. She’s made up her mind.

But you know what? So have I.

Just because she won’t take my room doesn’t mean there aren’t other ways to get rid of that stupid fucking cot.

* * *

Ivy

Grandma wraps me in the third hug since we’ve stepped onto her porch to say goodbye and I get the distinct impression she’s stalling. Nell zooms around the front yard, arms out to her side, hair shining in the sun. Everything about her seems easier lately. Like she’s more relaxed, more comfortable. Happier. Maybe it’s because she finally knows her father. Maybe his absence weighed on her more than I knew. Though, something tells me the change I’m seeing is more than that.

“I’m so glad things are going well,” Grandma says, peeking at her phone, then tapping away at a text message.

“So far, I’d say they’re pretty much idyllic.” My smile feels forced and I don’t know why. I love living with Micah. I’m happy. Nell’s happy. We’ve all found this rhythm that works for us. Our days are easy, though every night I go upstairs wishing I was heading to his room instead of mine.

Nothing’s happened between us since the night his parents visited. No kissing. No touching. Nothing. I catch Micah staring at me and I’m sure he’s caught me staring at him. And if he’d initiate, I wouldn’t be able to say no…

But he hasn’t.

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