Last Light

by Claire Kent

Curiosity is like sympathy. It will kill you in the end.

I narrow my eyes and try to look intimidating. I’m pretty sure it’s not effective. It’s my damn dimple.

Maybe I am crazy. Reading poems at the end of the world.

He’s got really good arms. Maybe he’ll be friendlier tomorrow. I’m glad he isn’t a creep.

But if you wanna groom, you should let me chop off that mess of hair with my knife.” I gasp and raise a hand to my hair. “Why should I cut it?” “Too much of it. If someone comes after you, you’re giving them somethin’ real easy to grab on to.”

This screams Lee and Clementine

It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid. But it bothers me that he wants to cut my hair. I like my hair. I’ve had it long all my life. Everyone has always said it’s really pretty. My boobs and my hair. Those are the only things I really have going for me in the looks department.

I think about how I used to feel when I sang the song as a kid. Sometimes I’d sense a presence inside me rising, lifting, straining, as if my soul were reaching up toward heaven. I no longer believe in the words. I no longer trust in a God who takes care of us. I can’t imagine anyone does. My grandma’s favorite song might still be beautiful, but it has no meaning anymore. Not after everything that’s happened. Or maybe… Maybe now it means even more. A hymn of faith at the end of the world.

Never in my wildest dreams did I believe I’d be sitting so close to that same man. That I’d listen to him sleep. That I’d wonder about his underwear. That he’d be all I had left in the world.

He’s locked up tight again. It’s ridiculous, but I miss him.

“Shouldn’t say no so quickly. Pretty girl like you needs a man.” “I have a man,” I say without thinking. “She’s got a man.” The voice follows on the heels of mine. Lower. Gruffer. Louder. Travis.

Men can’t make it now without women any more than women can make it without men. We need each other.” He clears his throat and avoids my eyes. “I need you. Like you need me.”

“You think I’d’ve done nearly as good this week without you? You think of things I don’t. You’re better at finding houses with food and gas. You… you make things nice. I might not have even kept going if not for you, especially if we didn’t have that message. You make me…” I’m staring at him in astonishment. “I make you what?” Travis’s face twists like he’s regretting what he said. “Nothin’.”

“What did I do wrong?” “You relied on the gun. If your faith is in a gun, then you’re never gonna be able to always defend yourself.”

I feel something new. Against my lower back.

O.o

I secretly smile as he drops the box of tampons like it might bite him and strides toward the middle of the store. He’s quite adorably shy about certain things in a way I never would have expected.

I want to have sex with him because I want sex. With him.

He reaches up to brush back some hair that’s escaped my braids, but then he drops his hand back to his lap. “Can I… can I take care of… of where he hit you?”

Awwwww omggg Travis, me smol Travis

Travis’s breath blows my loose hairs. His hand closes softly around my forearm. The length of his body is pressed into mine, and I’m surrounded by his scent. I feel safe this way. I start to feel better. I stop trembling.

I close my eyes and fall asleep with Travis all around me.

His body is more than attractive. It’s powerful. Alive.

“With me?” “Yes. With you. I like you. I like how you look. And I want to do this.” I take a loud, shaky breath. “Do you… do you like how I look?” He’s so tense he’s almost shaking too. “You know I do.” “And it seemed like… you might want… twice now…” “It’s been more’n twice.” His eyes drop down like mine were earlier.

Why shouldn’t we? Why do we always have to… have to work and suffer and hurt and fight? Why can’t we… why can’t we have something good?”

“I’m gonna make you come. I’m gonna make you come real good.”

Maybe there’s no room for sweetness no more.”

Travis isn’t sweet either. He’s rough and raw and coarse and strong. He’s not sweet. But he’s good. I know he’s good.

“Oh fuck, Layne.” His voice is muffled by my neck. He’s sucking a hickey into my skin. “You’re the hottest little thing I ever felt.”

He’s murmuring out gruff encouragement as I ride out my orgasm. “That’s right. Real good. Come for me just like that.”

He feels sated to me. Like he’s close to falling asleep. I want him to. I want to give him what he needs. Not just in sex, but in other things too. It matters, taking care of someone else, even at the end of the world. I’d almost forgotten I had it in me.

“I just wanna keep you safe.”

He turns to look at me and grows still. Something heats up in his eyes. I glance down at myself self-consciously. “I found it in the closet. At least it was clean.” “Yeah.” His voice is hoarse. “Why are you looking at me that way? I’m totally covered.” “I know you are. Don’t matter. You’re sexy as hell.”

“That was amazin’. You got a real good voice for poems. Never really liked ’em much until hearing you say ’em out loud.”

“I wish I could cry about people too,” I whisper in the dark. Travis strokes my hair very gently. “Maybe you will one day.

Sometimes we gotta cry ’bout the smaller things because the big things are just too big.”

When you’ve lost almost everything, you take hope wherever you find it.

The salvation of the Mona Lisa. A spark of humanness at the end of the world. I fall asleep wondering where they might have put the painting to keep it safe.

“You like that?” he asks, low and gravelly.

He fondles my breasts before moving back down to my clit. He rubs me off again, and this time it’s even better. I’m bouncing over him eagerly as my orgasm breaks, and when he keeps rubbing, I keep coming, sloppy and shameless and completely un-self-conscious, even though I know he’s watching the whole time.

I’m just starting to soap up when I feel a draft of cold air. I give a little squeal when someone steps into the shower with me. Travis. Totally naked and now as wet as I am. “What are you doing?” I ask, my shock turning into giggles. “Takin’ a shower. Figured you’d use all the hot water, so I better share.” His tone is warm and teasing, and I love the sound of it. He’s not like this very often. “And you didn’t think about asking first?” “You don’t wanna share?” He takes the soap from my hand. “I can help you clean up real good.”

>>>>>:))))))

He’s not moving me. He’s holding me snugly against him with one arm. I have no reason not to believe him. Maybe he doesn’t mind my cuddling this way. I decide not to move. I like how it feels right here.

Whatever is happening between us feels more real than it’s ever felt before, but I still don’t know what it is. And the truth is I’m scared. Scared of getting this close to Travis. Scared of needing him too much—emotionally, not just to survive. What if he gets taken away, just like everyone else in my life? What if he doesn’t need me the way I need him? What if he doesn’t feel like I do?

I’m suddenly aware of the weight, the size, the heat, the strength of him behind me.

He keeps fucking me until the pleasure is so intense that it frightens me.

I just want to feel him, hold him like this. Know that he’s with me.

I miss feeling close to him.

At least he doesn’t feel so far away from me anymore.

It’s not just that I want the orgasms. Those are very nice, but I can live without them. I miss feeling close to Travis the way I do when we’re having sex. I miss having him look at me in that soft, hot way—the one that makes me feel like I’m special, that I’m his.

I’ve only been with him a few weeks. He’s never said a word to me about feelings. He’s never even kissed me.

I’m about to lose him. Tonight will be our last night together. I know it for sure.

It matters—even at the end of the world. Doing right by the people you love. I’ll hold on to him tonight. And I’ll let him go tomorrow.

How will I feel when his life becomes something other than me?