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— Just hold my hand. If you are afraid, you can hold my hand.
And it was so cold, my hand froze when I pulled it out from under the covers to extend it towards him. Carlos was on the bed across from mine, his hand stretched out toward me. The beds were far enough apart that I could barely reach him with my fingers. We both got as close as possible to the edge of the bed, the whisper of sheets spreading through the room. I grabbed two of his fingers. He smiled at me. And we fell asleep like that, with our fingers intertwined, hovering over the face of my brother, lying on a mattress between the beds. Eventually, after I had fallen asleep, I let go of his hand and hid it under the blankets. When I woke up, I had both hands on the pillow, but his was down on the side of the bed, his fingers still outstretched—not towards me, but pointed at the floor. And there was no longer a storm and I was no longer afraid.
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