As I drive home that afternoon, I think about the things I said, about the things she said, and about how sometimes all we need is a good dose of perspective.

There are worse nightmares than this.

I could be all alone.

I decide right then and there that I will start visiting my mother more often. No more hiding. No more fear. No more guilt.

Because as sad as my mother’s condition is, there is nothing sadder than walking up to that blank, empty door.

It’s a little after nine P.M. when the power goes out. My television flickers off, as do the lights, and I’m left sitting on the couch in complete darkness.

The first thing I think about is Cora.

She doesn’t like the dark. She keeps the lights on at night, even in her bedroom, and I don’t blame her.

I’m on the other side of town, but I reach for my phone just in case. Just to check on her.

Me: Did your power just go out?

I wait for her reply.

It’s been another week since I last saw her—since we kissed and cried and held each other on her bedroom floor until reality crept back in and I drove myself home.

And that was it. We haven’t spoken since, and it fucking sucks. I’m not sure what to say to her now that she feels responsible for my break-up with Mandy. I’m not sure what to think after she told me she hated me over and over, even though I know it’s the furthest thing from the truth. And I sure as hell don’t know what to do now that we’ve tasted each other again, voluntarily, desperately, and were likely one more kiss away from doing a lot more than that.

It's a mess.

My phone buzzes in my lap, and I quickly open the message.

Cora: Yes

Shit. She’s probably terrified.

Me: Do you have candles or something?

Cora: I can’t find my lighter. I’m using my phone’s flashlight, but my battery is almost dead. Shoot me.

I run my tongue along my teeth, weighing my options. There are only two options, and it doesn’t take long for me to pick one.

Me: On my way

Cora: That’s not necessary.

Me: You’re afraid of the dark.

Cora: I’m afraid of a lot of things. You’re one of them.

I stare at her text, my heart sinking into my stomach.

She’s scared of me? What the hell?

Me: Wow. Ok then.

A few minutes tick by before her response comes through.

Cora: I didn’t mean it like that. I’m afraid of the way you make me feel.

I should have figured that’s what she meant. I tap my finger against my phone and shoot back a reply before grabbing my shoes and coat.

Me: I get it. But I’m starting to realize there are things much scarier than that. See you in 15 mins.