by Rea Winters
“What happened to your hands? You been fighting robots or something?”
“It’s been a rough night.”
“Tell me about it.”
At the hospital, Caspar waited out front after a nurse treated and wrapped her hands, while another nurse escorted Amie to room. Dr. Fitz, a middle-aged Irish expat, reassured her that the head injury was minor in a positively unconcerned tone. Then he noticed her clutching her abdomen and upon reaching to check there, she flinched. Trembling returned in full force; her mouth clamped shut in a poor attempt to stop her panicked breaths.
“Amie. Listen to me. You’re having a panic attack. Let’s take a deep breath. Will you do that with me?”
They inhaled steadily. Her breath trembled past her lips, but she calmed enough to remove her arm and lift her shirt.
“This is a transplant scar,” Dr. Fitz observed aloud.
“Yeah.”
“How long?”
“Five months and ten days. That asshole tackled me pretty hard and I don’t know, maybe this is dumb, but I suddenly got really worried. If s-s-something could’ve been bruised or knocked out of place or something, you know…” Her tears finally spilled as she shut her eyes tightly, bracing through the throbbing in her skull. Her thoughts were all broken up inside, coming to her in scrambled pieces.
“And my meds, I’m supposed to take them every day but I don’t…they’re low, in my bag…”
She rubbed her stomach with one shaky hand, while spinning the other in the air, trying to summon words off the tip of her tongue. Swallowing a lot between upset sighs failed to soothe her drying mouth.
“It’s okay, Amie. Breathe. Just breathe. In and out.”
She did her best to follow his instruction, nodding and sliding her sweaty palms down her thighs.
“If you can tell me the hospital where you were treated, we can have your file delivered to us and we’ll go from there. For now, we’ll give you something for the aches and pains, so you can sleep tonight. And hey, I’m positive that nothing is knocked out of place. Thankfully that’s not how the body works, okay? I think you’re fine, but if it’ll make you feel better, we can schedule you for some X-rays, take a look inside. Sound good?”
Amie let out a chuckle of relief, wiped her tears and nodded. “If you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. That’s what we’re here for.” The doc shuffled out of the room and quietly delegated a few orders to a nurse. A minute later, he returned with a mini water bottle and a smaller paper cup of pills. She took both, whispering her thanks.
“You’ll need to come in for a proper exam, let’s say, day after tomorrow. Your file should be in by then. We’ll get you a new prescription, the whole nine yards.”
“Okay.”
“The hard part’s over now, shiqua. It’s going to be all right, understand?”
Amie nodded again, managing an embarrassed smile.
He handed her wet wipes and gave her hand a comforting pat. “Is there someone out there waiting for you?”
“Yeah, a friend. She drove me here.”
“Good. She’ll need to look after you. Any fainting, excessive dizziness, or nausea before your next appointment, you come right back here. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
After composing herself, Dr. Fitz led her out into the hall to the nurse, who showed her back to the front waiting area. Caspar stood.
“You okay?”
She chewed on her tongue again and just nodded. For the whole drive from the hospital to a family hotel north of the Square she didn’t say a word, but paused before getting out of the car.
“Something is wrong,” Caspar concluded.
Amie swallowed against the thickening in her throat and blinked back welling tears. Hiding half her face behind a cascade of curls, she couldn’t bring herself to look up as she confessed.
“I really…I don’t want to be alone right now.”
“Then, you won’t be.” Caspar started the truck.
Chapter Sixteen
Amie was a hard sleeper. She had yet to budge an inch through all of the clinking and sizzling Cas orchestrated in the open kitchen. Last night, she’d fallen asleep on the couch while Caspar had been making up the bed in the art room. Rather than wake her, the ladda had draped a blanket over her and gone to bed. Having some manners, Cas decided to properly welcome her into her home with a home cooked breakfast that morning, one she rarely made for herself.
Cas’ cellphone buzzed on the counter. It was the vet with good news about the dog.
“Okay. I’ll pick him up in a few. Thanks.”
“Pick who up?” Amie asked through a yawn, stretching like a cat. Cas glanced up at her, did a double take, and then ducked her head to hide an amused smile.
“What?” Immediately feeling her wildly mussed hair, she grinned, made a goofy seductive face and mussed the bunched-up tangles even higher. “You like?”
Caspar cracked a wider smile, shaking her head, then pushed up the sleeves of her white thermal sweater and turned back to the stove to finish cooking.
“You’re feeling better.”
“Much better.” With some pep in her step, Amie limped to her feet and breathed in the savory aromas making her mouth water. The living room, she noticed, was like stepping into a magazine; complete with an embroidered rug on the shiny hardwood floor, a cast iron fireplace adjacent from the fully loaded entertainment system, and the softest couch she’d ever laid her bones on. Only the wall-attached shelves were empty, though she suspected they hadn’t always been that way.
“So, who’re we picking up today?”
“A dog.”
“Who’s dog?”
“Mine now, I guess.”
“I have a dog, too. Sort of. There’s this stray I feed at the park. We’re kindred spirits, it’s a whole thing. Bathroom?”
“Down the hall to the left. I already put some of my clothes and other essentials in there for you.”
Nearly an hour later, Amie emerged from a steaming bathroom feeling refreshed, but drowning in heavy material that smelled of wood and burnt metal.
“Um, Caspar…” The sound of jeans hissing across the floor followed Amie as she shuffled into view. The bottom of Cas’ t-shirt reached the middle of Amie’s thighs, not that the length was too noticeable with her jeans pulled up to Amie’s ribs.
“I don’t think a belt’s gonna cut it. Even the shorts are struggling,” she muttered, fidgeting.
Caspar smiled a bit, but with a hint of sadness mangled with the amusement in her eyes.
“I’ll talk to Des about getting your clothes back soon. In the meantime, there’s uh…there should be something that fits in my mom’s room. I’ll be right back.”
The room ghost stories were made of. Chea’s bed was clean and properly made. Same for all the clothes in the drawers and closet. Her crafts and half melted candles remained exactly where they were six years ago. A cold shudder ran through Caspar’s bones as she stood on the threshold. Details of the night she found her mother on the floor by the bed fought hard to stick to her mind like tar. After a quick breath, she rushed in, pulled items from drawers without really looking at them, and jetted out the door, swiftly closing it behind her.
On her way back to the kitchen, she stopped short of the art room from where the light of day now beamed through open curtains. Having ditched Caspar’s jeans, Amie stood in the middle of the room in just a t-shirt, going through a box of small canvases and handmade trinkets. Pushing her damp locks behind her ears, a smile came to her face as she looked upon old things in a new light. Caspar hadn’t considered this part. How easy it would be for a stranger to unearth the things she buried. But maybe the ease of it was her own fault for digging such shallow graves in the first place.
Cas knocked on the wall, startling Amie. She put the trinkets in her hands back in the box.
“Sorry, got curious.”
“It’s okay.”
“Gnomes, dragons, elves, and
faeries. Your mom was really into fantasy, huh?”
“Yeah, she was.” With a faint smile, she joined Amie in the room and pulled from the box a small painting of a baby in the middle of a lake. “When I was little, she told me I was a princess delivered to her by a Water God that lived in Pine Lake. She was the Faerie Queen chosen to protect me from the big bad world until I could grow up and become a big strong knight. Then it would be my turn to protect her. It’s how she dealt with things. Stories made them easier. But the fantasies never held up for long. She did her best to adjust, but it got harder every year. Especially when I found out the truth. I didn’t…I didn’t react well.”
“I don’t think there is a good way to react to that.”
Caspar hummed. “Here, these should fit. Help yourself to anything more. And uh, I’ll have this stuff out of the way soon. The bed is kind of small, but comfortable, I think.” She hoisted some more boxes out of the way of the bed in the corner.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Caspar dipped into a small room across the hall where the washer and dryer were stationed and busied herself with laundry while Amie changed. Her guest appeared in the doorway minutes later, dressed in a small t-shirt and jean coveralls, which were just baggy enough not to pinch around her wider hips. She leaned against the frame, munching on a piece of Canadian bacon wrapped in a leafy green.
“For somebody with such a medieval upbringing, you’re a surprisingly great cook and your spot is pretty up to date. Actually, way more up to date than all the apartments I’ve ever lived in…ever.”
“Yeah, my mom was a big fan of modern conveniences. She just didn’t want any neighbors. And the cooking was one of many things she made sure I knew how to do by the time I was twelve. Came in handy when she stopped getting out of bed for so much as a bowl of cereal.” Cas grimaced, mentally kicking herself. “Sorry.”
“For what?”
The times she had been scolded by Natalie for bringing the mood down came to mind.
“I know people don’t like hearing about that kind of stuff. Puts them in a tough spot because they never know what to say.”
Amie shrugged. “I don’t have to say anything. And I don’t mind hearing about it if you don’t mind talking about it.”
“Why?”
Because she knew what it was like, needing to be heard. There were few things worse than enduring a world where no one had the time or patience to listen. It could drive certain people to develop a cute little habit of never speaking up at all, no matter how much pain they were in. To bury their fears and frustrations behind the thickest walls they could muster. But once in a very blue moon, even for those certain someones, the walls crack and their silence breaks.
“Well…you listened to me last night, didn’t you? Sedas always return a favor,” Amie declared with a wink, prompting Cas to hide a bashful smile.
“Fair enough.”
“Now, c’mon, let’s go get your dog.”
Chapter Seventeen
"Hey there, Rough Road. Nice haircut. I miss a couple dates and this is the trouble you get into?"
Amie rolled up the sleeves of a borrowed white cardigan and slipped her hands through the cage to scratch the whining dog’s ears. Out at the front desk, Caspar paid the bill and listened intently to the vet’s run down of the dog’s needs.
“You’ll need to bring him in about a month from now for more shots and then we can talk about getting him neutered.”
“Neutered, huh?”
Caspar’s slight wince gave Mrs. Taylor a good chuckle. “It’s not just to stop him from making pups with every poodle that crosses his way. It’ll also prolong his life, lesson his chances of developing certain medical issues and it’ll make him easier to train. Spare your pillows the happy time stains.”
At that, Cas winced harder. “Okay. Sold.”
Amie came out of the back room with a young black Labrador in her arms, freshly bathed and shaven.
“Hey, guess what? This is Rough Road.”
“Who?”
“The stray I told you about. My kindred spirit. Small world, ey?”
He needed a leash, tags, toys, a proper bed. The dog sat between them in the truck, barking louder after every item Amie read off the list.
"Aw, look at that, he's excited."
When they reached the superstore, Amie volunteered to go inside and get everything he needed because she could tell by the look on Caspar’s face that the ladda planned to grab whatever was nearest just to be in and out as soon as possible.
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“Yes. You have to take your time with these things. Read ingredients, look at prices, think about the sizes and material—”
“Okay, okay.” Caspar fished a few hundred bucks out of her wallet and handed it over. “Knock yourself out.”
“Yay, I’ll be right back,” Amie promised the dog and hopped out of the car.
Caspar watched her practically skip along across the parking lot despite her slight limp. She found herself grinning again and didn’t feel the need to grunt it away. The dog began to whine, scratching and sniffing at the dashboard. A mere two minutes had passed and he missed her already.
Cas pet him on the head. “I know. Me too.”
Meanwhile, in the pet aisles of the store, Amie grabbed everything on the list plus two or three backups just in case her first choices weren’t to Rough Road’s liking.
“New dog?” The clerk asked, flashing a knowing smile.
“Is it that obvious?” Amie laughed. On her way out, her cart nearly bumped into a guy. “Oh, sorry.”
“No worries. Hey, remember me?”
Once Amie registered who he was, her face fell flat into passive aggravation. “No.” She tried to push forward, but he stepped in the way.
“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that.”
Caspar looked up from her hand-wrestling match with the dog and spotted Amie standing just outside the store talking to Larry Melvin. And she didn’t look happy about it.
“Listen, I felt bad when you rode off in the middle of the storm like that. Where are you staying now? You found a place already?”
“Yeah, with a friend.”
“Oh, that’s great. What friend? Maybe I know ‘em.”
“I don’t care much if you do.”
“Alright, it’s cool. Hey, I hope there’s no hard feelings about the whole policy thing.”
“Nope, which I’m sure greatly disappoints you.”
“Ah, she’s pretty and funny.”
“Can you move now? I need to go.”
“Wait, just one more thing—"
“Problem, Larry?”
“Jee—” The pudgy man flinched back, holding his chest. “Adami, hey. Long time, no see. For such a big fella, you’re sure light on your feet, huh?” He chuckled, stepping back as the towering woman stepped forward, standing in front of the shopping cart.
“I said, is there a problem?”
Larry cleared his throat. “No, no problem, just catching up with a former tenant. See ya around, Seda.”
Amie rolled her eyes, broke away from the scene and crossed the parking lot. Caspar waited for Larry to disappear into the store before joining her. She helped put the bags away in the truck bed.
“You okay?”
“Oh, yeah. Little weasels like that get on my nerves, but they don't scare me.”
Chapter Eighteen
Desmond had called while they were on the road, letting Cas know that Amie could reclaim her belongings. So, they picked up her stuff from the Sheriff’s Department, then stopped at Amie’s favorite diner for the last essential items she needed to recover properly. Chicken tenders, seasoned fries, and most essential: chocolate pie. She kept Rough Road occupied with his new toys while Cas went inside and filled both their orders. The sun had set, turning the air colder and blanketing the streets in deep shadowy blue light.
Cas was one foot out the door with their meals when
a woman approached her from behind.
“Caspar?”
She stopped, looked the woman up and down. “Do I know you?”
“You’re Caspar Adami, right?”
The woman appeared to be older despite her small stature, so Cas couldn’t say she recognized her from her school days, but she couldn’t place her from work, either. The lady clutched herself as if she’d fall apart with the next wind, her eyes big, red, and watery. Cas’ instincts drove her to close some of the distance between them.
“Are you in trouble, miss?”
“No, well, yes actually. I’m Vera. Vera Jacobsen?”
“Okay…”
“I guess that name would mean nothing to you. Um, my husband is…my husband is Jack Kent.”
Caspar’s expression darkened amid her confusion and she recoiled.
“Please don’t go. I just want to talk.”
Cas ran a hand down her jaw, faced away from the woman, but stayed still.
“We have nothing to talk about.”
“But we do.” The woman showed her the picture clutched in her hand. A picture of a boy. “His name is Aaron Jacobsen. He’s my son, your half-brother, and he needs your help. He’s dying of kidney failure. Jack and I aren’t matches, but you could be—"
Caspar shot her a venomous glare. “I don’t owe any of you anything.”
“He’s only fourteen years old—”
“My mom was just a few years older than that when your so-called husband—”
“Please.” Vera shut her eyes and shook her head. “I know what he did. But that’s in the past. He’s not that man anymore.”
Cas scoffed. “He never was a man. And what he did isn’t in the past. It’s standing right in front of you.” She walked away, but Vera ran after her, cutting in front of her with both her hands up.
“Please, please just listen. I’m sorry, I-I-I didn’t come here to defend Jack or minimize what he did. Just…can we start over?”
