Twenty-four hours can't be that strong

"You knew it was out there," Dog said.  "That was the whole point."

Cam had invited him over.  Lacy, too.  And a friend of Lacy's, but I don't remember her name because I left before he could tell it to me.

Cam's bedroom has a door and I shut it.  I didn't lock it because it is his room, and anyway if he wants to come in I guess I'd rather he just did than banged on the door or tried to talk through it.  

It's his apartment, but he said I could stay here and I get to choose the room I want to be in at any given time.

I chose the one with nobody else in it.  

I didn't feel like sitting with a bunch of other people arguing over whether we should watch a movie or go out, and then arguing some more over which movie or which club. I felt like seeing how far into the bed I could burrow and still be able to breathe.

I was hoping they'd go out, but they stayed.  I think Cam was hoping I'd get bored and come out and play nice.

He drives me crazy.

Sometimes I feel like he knows me straight through, like I'm a crystal shell he can pick up and look all the way into any time he wants, and I don't even mind because I know he'd never break me; and sometimes I can't believe how he can't figure out the most basic ordinary obvious things about me.

Like that the last thing I'd want was to be reminded right then that there were plenty of other people on the planet.

Like I haven't had enough forcible reminders of that.

Why would he invite a stranger over?

They decided to watch a movie after all.  I heard the kind of hollow booming that even his neighbor can hear sometimes. That's about the only frequency she's got left, I think.  She'd be banging on the wall soon if things didn't stop blowing up.

A knock on my door.

I'm not here. Go away.

I heard the door slip open and then shut again.  There's a chair next to Cam's computer, and someone sat down in it.

"Me," Dog said, and I cleared the covers back away over my head.

"Hey," he said when I looked at him.  

Here's the thing: if it had been Cam that had come in, knowing how much I didn't want him right then, knowing I wanted to be alone, knowing why, I would have started screaming.  I would have thrown something.  Thrown him, if I could.  Clawed until there was blood on the wall, and not cared much which of us it came from.

That never occurred to me with Dog.  Not just because I don't think I could get anywhere near hurting him, unless he let me or I fought dirty and snapped out a real keeper of a headache at him.   Dog just sat and took my measure, and everything along those lines was completely irrelevant.

"Heard you weren't in the mood for company," he said.

So you came in.

He smiled, just a little.  His face never moves much.  His eyes always stay locked on you whether it's you talking or him.  Most people tend to look around a bit, especially when they're trying to find the right words.  Like they think they'll see them on the shelf, or hanging just outside the window.

"I don't think of myself as company," Dog said.

His voice is so deep it's distracting.  Sometimes it takes me a minute to know what he's saying.  He doesn't mind.  He just waits.
I didn't have an answer for him, so I piled up some pillows to lie on.  I'm a pillow hog.  Cam had to buy some more just to make sure he had a chance at getting one on any given night.

"Cam told me what was bothering you," he said.  "I'm not sure I understand the problem, though."

Then go talk to him some more.  Maybe he can explain a little better.

"No need to get nasty," he said.  "You have to admit, it's kind of a contradiction."

I don't see why.

"If you didn't want anyone to see what you wrote, you shouldn't have put it out there."

I glared at him. He just took it.  It wasn't for "anyone" to see. Cam's out a lot, and he likes to be able to see what I've been doing.

"What you've been writing, you mean."

So?

"So," Dog said, "he could have just had you email him, or put it in a document he could get to and no one else could.  There are plenty of options for keeping that kind of thing private."

I slammed myself back, rattling the headboard.  I felt Cam worrying from the other room, and I was glad.

I don't know about computers.  He set this up. This is how he wanted it. It wasn't MY idea.

"Stop acting so powerless," Dog said.  "You knew what he was doing.  You could have said no."

Right.  Say no to the one person who's standing between me and the street or worse.  He's paying the rent and everything else and the way he never breathes a word about it you'd think that kind of thing just happens.  He keeps me safe.  I step on him when I walk in my sleep because he takes the floor at night so he'll be between me and the door just in case I start really heading somewhere.  He brings me books and music and the way he looks at me you'd never think he knows I have a body.

All that, and he acts like he's grateful I'm here.

So of course if he asks if I'll please do something, one thing, I'm going to say no.

"You knew people could read whatever you wrote," Dog said.  "You knew it was out there.  That was the whole point."

Not for me.

"You're not the only one dealing with this kind of thing.  The more that's out there about it, the better.  People are just starting to face the fact that we're real.  Sure, the science is adding up, but it's pretty abstract.  We need more stories."

I think that was the most Dog has ever said to me in one big block.  

I wished he'd keep talking.  His voice is like a purr.

I didn't answer, and he asked, "Does it bother you that I've read what you wrote?"

Surprised, but not bothered.  I shook my head. That's different.  I know you.

"And those people -- the ones who left the messages -- are total strangers.  They don't know you from Eve.  For all they know, you're some forty-year-old guy with a goatee."

I smiled. "So why care?" he asked. "Especially if they like what you say, but even if they don't.  What does it matter?"

I shook my head again. "So you don't mind friends, and you don't mind strangers," he said.  "Who does that leave?"

I looked down at my hands.  They burned a little after I got out, but when Cam took me in they paled right back up again.

"You afraid somebody's going to find you?" Dog asked.

"Quit curling up like that," he added.  "I can't even see who I'm talking to."

He looked at me more curiously than usual.  "Is it the police?" he asked.

I don't know, I said.  I hadn't really thought about that.  They might be looking for me.  You're not supposed to leave that kind of place until they say you can.

"Your family?"

I wanted another blanket, but I was too cold to go get one.  

"You're an adult, right?  Legally?  They can't do anything to you."

That might be true. It is true, I guess, if he says it is.

It doesn't feel true.

How can two people have all the power in the world over you one day and none at all the next?