She shakes her head.
“No way to tell just yet,” she says, but pats my shoulder.“But you’re here, so you’re out of the woods.”
Then she laughs.
“Literally!”she says, and laughs again.“But seriously, there could be permanent damage.We’ll know more soon.”
“Thanks,” I say.
I get a mask to wear.I get an IV, because I’m dehydrated, but at least they don’t give me a catheter since I’m still perfectly capable of getting up to pee.
They do let my parents see me, but not for long.My mom cries and talks a lot about Jesus.My dad makes me pray with the two of them for a good ten minutes, even though I run out of stuff to say to God after about forty-five seconds.I’m just not very religious.
Around ten that night, after hours of waiting and prodding and wrapping and more waiting and poking andmore waiting, I get moved to a regular room at last, walking along with my oxygen mask and IV.At least my hospital gown closes all the way up the back.
When I open the door to my room, it’s absolutely fuckingstuffedwith flowers.There are arrangements on every horizontal surface, so many that they’re overflowing onto the floor.There are roses, sunflowers, carnations, lilies, and that’s all the flowers I can really name but I swear there’s a hundred kinds of flowers in here.
“I swear, every other phone call to the nurse’s station was someone delivering flowers for the fireman,” the nurse who escorted me says.
I look up at the ceiling.It’s choked withGET WELLballoons, plus one that saysHappy Birthday.
“I don’t know what to say,” I tell her.“People are always nice, but...wow.”
“You earned it,” she says.“Hope you’re not allergic.”
After I getinto the bed, another nurse seems to visit every ten minutes.I wish they’d let me sleep, but they’re coming in offering more pillows, chamomile tea, warmer socks, a white noise machine.They’re all so nice and sweet that I can’t even get annoyed.
None of it’s what I reallywant, but I know I just need patience.Tomorrow morning.I’ll wake up, eat breakfast, and she’ll be here.
I’ve just drifted off to sleep again when the door opens.
Please don’t give me anything else to make me more comfortable, I think.Just let me sleep.
Then whoever opened the door pauses, like they’re uncertain.I open my eyes, but I can’t see them yet because of how the room’s laid out.
After a moment the bar of light cast by the open door disappears, and the door clicks shut.Quiet, tentative footsteps enter the room, and then a dark shape comes around the corner.
My heart leaps.
“Hey,” I whisper.
“You awake?”Clementine whispers back.
“No, I’m talking in my sleep,” I say, keeping my voice low, since she obviously sneaked in somehow.
She comes up to my bed, leans over, and kisses me gently on the forehead.I slide one of my hands into hers, and she squeezes.
“You missed,” I murmur.“The proper hello kiss is down here.”
She kisses me on the mouth hesitantly, like I’m made of glass, so I put my other hand on the back of her head and pull her in, harder.Thenshe kisses me so fiercely I can feel the sharpness of her teeth against my lips, our mouths open, my tongue reaching for hers.
I’mbeyondglad I held on and didn’t run out of the shelter, because now she’s making soft little noises, her hand’s in my hair, and she’s practically pushing me back into my pillows.
When Clementine finally pulls away, she leans her forehead against mine, eyes closed.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” she whispers.
“Me too,” I say.
