Cadaverous Love

Chapter Fourty-Eight

"What the hell, Dallas?" I stare at him, "are you kidding me?"

"No, I'm not kidding you," Dal chuckles, "come on, if you aren't dying today, you're dying tomorrow. You've just got to live up what you've got left."

"I want to die around the people I love," I sigh, pressing my hands to my face.

"Oh, so you don't love me?" He asks, being snarky.

"Of course I do, but I love other people too." I push my hair back behind my ears, trying to make sense of a world that feels so unreal. I reach up to check if my nose is still there and then I knock on my head, making sure someone's home. I reach over to touch Dallas, and I am spooked when my fingers finally brush his ear after an eternity of stretching my arms to feel his skin.

"What are you doing?" He glances over at me.

"Nothing feels real," I rest my head on his shoulder and press my nose against his jacket. I close my eyes, my mind swirling with thoughts incomprehensible. I breathe out slowly, thinking of something to say to get my world focused. "Dally, are you going to get a haircut?"

"I dunno," he shrugs, "I will if you will."

"Then I will," I say, snuggling closer on the bench seat as I look out the window, "Dal, who usually cuts your hair?"

"Me," Dallas replies, "and sometimes Two-Bit, but he's not very good at it. Why? You think I let a whole bunch of people touch me or my hair?" He shakes his head and cracks a grin, pushing my reality further into questioning. I reach up and run my hand over his hair, grease from not washing it in a while rubs off onto my fingers.

"You let me touch your hair," I try to wipe my hand off on his jacket.

"Yeah, well that's different," he responds. I nod, keeping my eyes peeled for a barber shop. We pass by shabby stores and gas stations before the blue and red swirls catch my eye.

"Look," I point with a shaky finger.

"Nuhuh," he nods his head no, "not going to a barber shop. You cut John's hair, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then, I don't mind you cutting mine. You can use my blade when we pull over for the night." He lets out a long breath, "man, I hope that kid's doin' alright."

The pain of reality returns to me in short bursts as I try hard to focus on the smell of Dal's jacket and the stretch of road in front of us.

Dallas turns on the radio to drown out the silence that is home to our troubles. I close my eyes and try to block my train of thought by counting to ten over and over. The numbers in my head slowly fade into nothingness.

--

"Hey," someone shakes my knee, "hey, Emily," I blink open my eyes to see Dallas standing in front of me, the car door open beside him and cool air rushing in around me. "Evening, princess," he says, leaning on the side of the truck, "I was going to head in and and get you some Tylenol, did you wanna come in too?"

I sit up and look at the scenery around us. The early evening sun sits far off on the west of a colorless sky. I look ahead at the pharmacy and soda shop before us, it's lights pour our onto the black pavement beneath us.

I rub my eyes, "where are we?" Dallas leans in the car and reaches for the map that sits on the dashboard that he must have pulled out when I was sleeping. He lays it across my lap and points. "Texas?" I say, surprised.

"Not yet," he begins to drag his finger across the paper, "so we'll go through the rest of Oklahoma, to Texas, New Mexico, through Arizona and into Nevada." He pushes the map off my legs and asks, "so, you wanna come in and get something?"