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“Yeah,” I say. I force myself to take the first step which is the hardest because the next one happens naturally. I walk over until I’m within arms reach but not too close. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she says, setting the rag down. “Are you…”
“Okay?” I ask for her and she nods. “Yeah. I am. Look, I, uhm, I’m sorry Jean.”
“Sorry?” she asks, “to me? Why?”
“I’ve been… well a bitch. I’m sorry. I didn’t know?—”
She grabs me into a tight hug so hard that it cuts off any further words. I oof as she does then I wrap my arms around her too. We hold each other and she cries. I do too, with my one working set of tear ducts and in this moment all is forgiven.
“Home,” I say, waving my arm around the space that is, really, too small for the two of us.
Provyd doesn’t seem to mind. He walks over to the bed, pushes down on the thin mattress and looks at me with a raised eyebrow and broad grin.
“Good?”
I shrug uncertain.
“It’s kind of small,” I say, looking from the bed to him.
He laughs and it causes warmth in my belly immediately. I like his laugh. It has a rich warmth and fills the room with a joy that is infectious. He walks over and wraps his arms around pulling me tight.
“We make work,” he says.
“Yeah,” I agree. “We will.”
And it’s true. I still bear the scars, nothing is going to get rid of them, but they seem less. Less important, less painful, and less of a barrier. All of that changed with him. I lean my head back and he accepts my invitation. Claiming my lips in the same way that he claimed my heart.
We move together and put the bed to use. Making it work.
EPILOGUE
MARGE
“You really think this is clean enough?” I ask, tilting my head to one side and waiting.
“Uhm,” Tim murmurs, but he picks up the scrub brush and takes the pan out of my hand.
“Thank you,” I say, turning my attention to the rest of the kitchen.
I’m tired, but that’s okay. It’s been a good day. Everyone is fed, which makes me happy and my kitchen sparkles, which also brings a joy of its own.
“Okay guys, good job,” I say. All the workers look up from their final tasks and look expectantly at me. I clap my hands and then wipe them against each other. “I know this is hard work, but we all rose to the challenge. Our fellow survivors are fed for another day. Well done. Now wrap up and go get some sleep. Tomorrow is coming fast.”
They return a round of acknowledgments and set to getting done. I take a cloth over the prep table one more time just to add that final bit of shine to get it just the way I like it. As my crew files out to go home I go to follow them when a rattle catches my attention.
Frowning, I try to figure out exactly where it’s coming from, something is making it, clearly, but what? I make my way around the kitchen tracing the sound then it gets louder and there is no doubt what the source of it is. The freezer.
“No, no, no, no,” I mutter.
I pull the door open and there is no longer any doubt that this is the source of the noise. A loud clang and clatter assaults my ears and there is smoke coming out of the fan at the back. I stare helpless, unsure what to do. My only idea is to shut it down, but if I do how long will the meat we have in here last?
“No choice,” I say to myself.
I step towards the off switch and as I do there is one final loud bang and rattle then a puff of smoke and the motor stops.
“Oh shit.”
