He nods at me. “Thank goodness for firefighters.” Glancing at his wristwatch, he says, “Discharge might take some time, so hold tight.”
Camryn comes back to my side as the doctor walks from the room, sweeping the curtain closed as he goes.
“Stop,” she commands, frowning.
My hands lift in confusion and innocence.
“Don’t judge me for flirting.” Her eyes drift down to my chest. “You’re the one who’s not wearing a bra.”
After I'm dischargedfrom the hospital, Camryn drives me to the house we grew up in. It’s not far from where I live (lived?), just over the invisible line that separates Phoenix from Scottsdale.
She hasn’t moved out, despite graduating from high school a year ago. She doesn’t go to school either, choosing to spend her time working at the locally owned coffee shop a few miles away. Sometimes I wonder if the reason my dad hasn’t either forced her to go to college or kicked her out is because he doesn’t realize she still lives here. He buries himself in work, and his vision tunnels. He might know she’s present, but he doesn’t actually see her.
“Home sweet home,” Cam announces when we walk inside the ranch style home. My legs haven’t stopped feeling like sticks of Jell-O, and by now I’m upright only by sheer force of will.
“Remember,” Cam says, shuffling past me. “You don’t have a bedroom here anymore.”
My dad didn’t keep my room intact when I left for college. Within a few months of me moving out of my childhood home and into my dorm at Arizona State University, the four walls I’d grown up in transformed into a home gym. Carpet ripped up, and squishy yoga mat material laid down in its place. He installed a mirrored wall, and added everything a person could need to either get or stay in shape. He’d been dating Patricia, a personal trainer and fitness blogger. She was beloved by women who were squarely in their mid-life reawakening, fresh from the death of their first marriage and ready to rediscover the woman they’d lost when they became wives and mothers.
Patricia was nice enough, but Camryn and I knew better than to put too much stock into the relationship. Not shockingly, we were right. They lasted eight months. To my knowledge, Dad still uses the home gym, albeit with less frequency.
My father has an aversion to being single. If asked, he’d scoff and say this is untrue. I don’t know how he denies it, given all the evidence to the contrary. Evidence beingwomen. No opinions here, just cold hard facts. I think he doesn’t want to face how lonely he is since our mom died, and denying the symptom also denies the underlying illness.
The fourth bedroom in the house is an office, not that my dad ever uses it. He’s constantly traveling for work. Currently he’s in Japan.
The urge to call him sweeps over me, and I voice it to my sister.
Camryn shrugs. “Why? He won't jump on the next flight and come home.”
She’s right.
Camryn gives me fresh pajamas that don’t smell like smoke and lets me use her expensive cream face wash. I’ll shower tomorrow. My hair is tied on top of my head, the lingering scent of smoke clinging to my bound tresses.
Camryn pulls back the covers of her queen size bed and crawls to the far side, making room for me. “Snuggle time,” she mumbles, yawning.
I get in beside her, worry settling over me like the comforter I’m wrapped in. Does Sabrina know about the fire? Did someone call her? The police? Were the police there when I was carried out? I can’t remember. What about?—
“Go to sleep, Baxter.”
A wisp of a laugh rushes between my lips. Baxter was the name of our neighbor's adopted rescue dog who had an affinity for humping my calves. Camryn called me Baxter as a joke, andthe name stuck. She rarely uses it anymore, and I think I know why she’s using it now. Comedic relief can soothe near-tragedy. And what almost happened tonight?
It would’ve been tragic.
In the tiniest voice, Cam whispers into the darkness, “You’re the only mother I’ve ever had, and you could’ve been gone. Just like that.”
Around the lump building in my throat, I say, “I didn’t, Cam. I’m still here, and I’ll still be passively aggressively trying to make you go to college, and finding flaws with every guy you date.”
She sniffs. “And telling me you hate my shoes.”
“You always choose the ugliest shoes.” The words barely make it out before I'm crying.
Heaving sobs contort my face and fill my chest. Camryn rolls over, pulling me in to her. She holds me and lets me cry. At some point we fall asleep, our roles reversed. So many nights we fell asleep with me holding her this same way.
SESSION TWO
DESERT FLOWER THERAPY
“You must have been terrified,” Dr. Ruben says, displaying just the right amount of empathy.
