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came because you didn’t have anywhere else to go.” He turns his head over his shoulder to say this to me. “There’s nothing much here to steal, so don’t even bother looking. There are twenty more bucks in my sock drawer; take it if you want it. Make yourself at home, though. Eat. Take a shower. Put on some of Libby’s clean clothes. We have to truck in water, though, so take it easy. Strip at the door in case you’ve got lice or bedbugs, then take your clothes to the burn barrel. You look . . . lousy.”
    I roll over to my back. “The clouds are pretty from here.”
    He climbs in his truck, backs out, walks back, reaches down, touches my forehead. “I’m just noticing—how much pain are you in?”
    I move my face so I can look at his eyes. “I feel great. I don’t need a doctor. I just need sleep.”
    His hair lifts a fraction in the breeze. He reaches out his arm. “Ringo is in the truck. I’ll take him with me. Let me help you up. Go on inside.”
    â€œNo, I want to get up on my own.”
    He sighs. “See, you think you’re being tough right there. But really, you’re being selfish. That, Tess, is what is so hard to forgive about you. You don’t want to give me the peace of mind that you’re safe inside. I can’t very well just leave you lying here in the hot sun in a gravel driveway. Help me out, here.” He regards me. So for his benefit, I push myself to my hand and knees, and then, slowly, stand. The world tilts a little, my feet start pulsing with their ache. He puts the water bottle in my hand, nods approvingly.
    I watch him pulling out of the driveway, the tires snapping gravel, and I want to shout something after him. Something along the lines of: Guess what, I’m in so much pain that I can’t believe my body is still here. Guess what? I’ve come here to at least pretend to be human, I can do that, and I can at least put up a show. Guess what?I’ve come here to have one more burst of flame, of wildfire, of life, one more rage-against-the-night, and tenderness is the last whisper of a breeze on the embers.
    When he’s out of sight, I sink down till my knees touch gravel, and I bash my forehead into the rocks. I never thought a person could end up so alone.

Chapter Four
    Sleep. I wake in a not-enough-air panic, naked body sweat-covered. My throat is too tight, and so I gasp, stumble up. Stand, hunched over and breathing, and then sink back down to the floor, my knees giving way to the gravity that sucks at them. I sleep again. Wake again. Regard my naked body again. That bruise, and that one? That purple one, that yellow one. Where did I get them? Where am I? Where are my clothes? Oh, they’re outside, and I’m inside a strange Earthship, colors glinting in on me, on the bright colors of a mostly red rug. I reach up to touch the pulse on my forehead, feel out the bump. I feel my hairline dripping water and grease, I feel the slide of a bit of blood where my forehead hit gravel. My tongue feels out the gaping hole in my mouth and presses against the nerve-jangly ache. I sink back down and regard the colors around me.
    Sleep.
    Wake.
    When I open my eyes to the bright red softness I am on, sunlight is pouring in from the window. Sunlight out of water , my brain sings, and my eyes are not so sore, the sequencing of thoughts hasbeen turned on, my self is in my body. I sit up, slowly, and regard my feet. I must have left my tennis shoes outside, too, but I don’t remember taking them off, how I managed to unstick them from my bloody heels. I stare at my feet now, swollen, streaked with dried blood, the circles of skin that mark the edges of blister. I ask them: Will you carry me? Please?
    They comply and hold my weight, walk me down a hallway. My fingers trace the wall for balance. I find a bathroom, step inside the shower, stand in the heat until the sting of cuts and scrapes blooms