By the time I got home, the rain beat down in sheets. I ran for the front door, nearly skidded on the cell phone remains still all over the foyer. I fetched the broom and dustpan, scooped them up into the trash. I ran up to my room and froze, mid-stride. Adam had spent only one night here and it... missed him. I could still smell the faint odor from the cigarette he'd smoked with the window open. I righted the picture that fell over when he propped his crutches against my dresser. I ran to the bathroom and spotted the tiny squares of blood-stained toilet paper he'd used to tend his razor rash in the waste basket. He left his bag. I dove for it, found the t-shirt he'd worn yesterday and pressed it to my face.
Feel the burn.
Then I took a shower, since I was soaked through. I tried to ignore the spots on my underwear. It was just sex, right? It – or I - didn't mean a thing.
Not a damn thing.
I checked my phone. No missed calls. I checked my email. All spam and a few subscriptions to news from an industry that I was no longer part of. I checked the time. It was two o'clock in the afternoon.
I scrolled through my contacts list. There was no one to call. Over a hundred entries of friends who were no longer friends. I scratched at my scars and slapped a hand to my head. I left the pressure bandages in Adam's room. I called the hospital and asked for Ranger.
"Hey, sugar!"
I could hear the smile in Ranger's voice. I really loved that. "Hi. Um. I'm sorry to just, you know, call-"
"Eden, what's wrong?"
Crap. He wasn't smiling now. "Could I... just come in? I mean, now?"
"Don't you have school?"
"I cut class."
"Are you in pain?"
"Yeah. Uh, no. Not real pain. I was just hoping to visit Sam."
"Not real pain," he repeated, and then was silent for a moment. "Sam's gone, sugar. We discharged him yesterday."
"Oh." Disappointment was acute and the tears in my throat flared again.
"There are thunder storms bearing down on us. You be careful driving. I already put you back together once."
I laughed once. "Thanks."
"You bet."
#
By the time I'd reached the hospital, the rain had weakened to mere drizzle. In the lobby, a security guard stood when I approached. "Miss Leighton? I'm supposed to walk with you to the burn unit."
"Oh. Right. Thanks."
"Hey, sugar!" Ranger, a stack of towels in his arms, greeted me as I walked in. "Head over to curtain two, okay?"
I nodded, caught the eye of a patient on the mat table, a padded platform about the size of a double bed. My heart ached for him; he'd suffered horrifying burns to his face. The scarring made his face look mask-like and I could tell he wore a wig. He had bright blue eyes that tracked me as I walked past.
"Hi. I'm Michael." He shouted.
I nodded, smiled for a second. "Eden."
"Haven't seen you here before. Are you fresh or faded?"
My eyes widened. "Um. Sorry?"
"Your burns."
"Oh. Um. I'm about two months along."
