An Animal's Guide to Earthly Salvation by Jack R. Johnson

“Ah, Clara.” I wiped my face. It was getting hot. “I…you know, I’m just not —” I sighed, staring up at the ceiling. I sensed the edge of the sleep bug, which actually made me more randy. It’s weird how utter exhaustion does that. Close to 12:30, which meant if I crashed, I’d at least have a few hours before Caroline would stop by.

“I mean just for tonight,” she said.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be? I have to visit my family, then I have to go to work. So that means, like, at 2:30 or so, I have to leave.”

“You’ll let me stay here alone, won’t you?”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

“Why are men such creeps?”

She rolled off me. It was a sad moment.

“Clara. It’s not being a creep. I really have to make this visit, then I have to go to work. I barely know you.”

“What more do you want to know? Ask me a question.”

“Okay. Here’s a question. Where’s your place?”

“It’s close to here.”

“Then you can go there.”

“I can’t. I’m having problems with some people there.”

“Some people?”

“A guy.”

The excitement flowed right out of my body, right through the bottom of my feet and out the first floor window. “Uh huh.” I said, as though deliberating. I lay there staring at the ceiling.

“No.” I said, “No, I’m not getting involved in this.”

“You’re just going to throw me out? Is that what you’re going to do?”

I hate my life. I stared at the ceiling. I didn’t answer her, and she didn’t press. She leaned her head against my shoulder, and soon enough, we were both asleep.