Page 56 of Chasing Fireflies

“She’s sleeping, Leigh. We had a rough night,” I tell this girl because she knows her friend’s story.

“Oh, well darn. Now that the snow has lightened up some, I wanted to see if she wanted to get out of the house.”

“Yeah, today isn’t a good day. I’ll tell her you came by, though,” I say, shaking my arms a tad to try to keep warm.

“Okay, I’ll call later.” She’s disappointed and worried when she gets back into the car, and as she drives away, I think that’s exactly how I feel. Disappointed and worried. After Sara tried to kill herself a year ago, I thought she was getting better. I thought maybe we wouldn’t have to go through this again. Even though Dannie, her therapist, told me this was just part of my wife’s syndrome. She will get sad, she will get mad, and she will be indifferent. She will have days where you can’t keep up. Days she goes from one emotion to the other. She may go on spending binges or get obsessively wrapped up in something to the point it becomes unhealthy. I have to watch the signs. The signs. Which fucking signs? There are so many. I can’t keep up.

I shut the door and walk over to the stack of firewood. Grabbing a log, I toss it into the fire and rest my arm on the mantel as sparks fly up. Mindlessly, I watch the wood burn. Sara mumbles, and I cast my eyes over to her.

“Baby, how are you feeling?” I ask. She doesn’t respond, so I let her be and walk back into the kitchen. I sit down with my coffee and put my face into my hands. I pray for my wife, I pray for myself, and I pray for my heart because it’s a beat away from crumbling.

*

Sara

I roll over in our bed and see that I’m the only one in it. “Cash,” I call out. My voice is raspy from sleeping so much, and my head hurts. “Cash,” I say again. The door to our bedroom opens, and I blink from the light coming in from the hallway. “Mama?” I ask, sitting up.

“Yes, baby girl.” She walks in and sits down on the bed.

“Why are you here? Where’s Cash?”

“He had to go to work. He asked me to come stay with you.”

I don’t say anything, because what’s the point? They do what they want anyway.

“Are you hungry? You’ve been asleep for a while now.”

“I could eat a little.” I move my hair away from my face and take the covers off of me.

“You going to come down and eat?” she asks me.

“Yeah.”

“Can I get you some clothes?”

“No, I’ll wear what I have on,” I say, looking down at my nightgown.

“But it’s the middle of the day, Sara. Don’t you think you should get dressed? Let’s take down these dark blankets from the windows.”

I put my feet down, stand up, and walk into the bathroom. I shut the door, ignoring her. I don’t want to put any damn clothes on. I want to wear this, and I like my dark blankets. I roll my eyes when I hear her mumbling as she walks out of the room. Why did Cash call her? I turn the faucet on and cup my hands underneath the water. I put my face down and hold my breath as the water presses against my skin. It feels good. I lean up and grab a towel, wiping the water off and looking at myself in the mirror. Dark circles are under my eyes, and my hair is wild. Shrugging, I grab my toothbrush.

*

“You can’t eat any more than that?” Mama asks me as disapproval shows on her face.

“I’m full.” I get up and rake the rest into the trashcan.

“Sara, you hardly ate a thing.” She wipes the countertop, and I inhale a deep breath.

“I ate what I wanted, Mama.”

“How are you to gain any weight if you eat like a bird?”

“Who said I wanted to gain any weight?”

“Well, no one did, but you do. You are far too skinny.”

I look down at my body. “I think I look fine.”

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