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  “I’d die for you, Sarah.”

  I nodded. She reached toward me and pulled me into her. My head against her shoulder, her cheek against my forehead, I wept as Adelaide stared up at us. I couldn’t hear over my own sniffling, but I didn’t have to hear or see to know that Ella was crying along with me. Everything I felt, she felt. We were more than best friends. We were sisters.

  She really would die for me, and because of that ... I trusted her with my life.

  Four

  Ella dropped me off in front of my physical therapist’s office and said she’d be back in an hour. I smiled and walked away. The office was in a cute city house smashed between a row of similar houses. Two-and-a-half story houses embellished with shutters. Planters filled to the brim and overflowing with colorful plants. I loved the location. It reminded of that simpler time I longed for. Where people built houses with details and hands, instead of slapping stuff together with machines and watching it blow away during a storm.

  I entered the office and signed in. The receptionist fidgeted with papers while trying to make eye contact with me. I thanked her and sat down.

  When I was fifteen my parents took me to the State Fair in Baltimore with some old friends. They gave all the kids over fourteen some money and tickets and let us play for a few hours. I’ll never forget the first thing we did. It completely ruined my night. I barely knew the kids I was with, so when they laughed their way to the back of a line, I sheepishly followed. I had no idea what we were in line for because I forgot my glasses and couldn’t read the sign. We slipped a dollar into a box and entered a small room behind a big curtain.

  I looked ahead as each person passed something on a platform. Some people giggled while others stared in bewilderment. My group finally reached the object. It was a woman. An adult woman about the size of my calf. She looked down, complacent and sad, as the kids in front of me laughed and spit in her face. I reached forward and wiped the spit with the sleeve of my shirt and apologized. She refused to look at me or thank me. She was too far gone.

  I continued walking as the couple behind me covered their mouths and laughed into their hands. My heart split into fragments as I walked back outside. Fragments that I intended to use as a sword, but my group disappeared. Later I found out that they were embarrassed when I wiped the woman’s face, so they abandoned me. I think the thing that bothered me the most wasn’t the spitting or the sneering. It was that everyone called her “it.”

  I never thought I would also be referred to as an “it.” Mostly by children, though adults averted their eyes from my own in public. The kids didn’t look away. They stared. And inevitably they’d look up to their mom or dad and say, “What is it, Mommy?”

  It.

  “Ms. Jordan?” a young girl called from the front desk.

  I stood, trying to smile.

  “Right this way.” She led me down the hall into a small room filled with various therapy equipment. A few minutes after she left, Vasili entered.

  “Hey, Sarah. How’s it going today?” His cheeriness was evident, but not overwhelming. Something soothing about it.

  I nodded and shrugged.

  “Care to talk before we begin?” He sat on an exercise ball and folded his hands. “I know I’m not a counselor, but I am a friend.”

  I almost laughed. “But you barely know me. This is, what, my fourth week here?”

  “All of my patients are my friends. Otherwise I wouldn’t do this for a living.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that I love what I do. I love people. My patients are people.”

  “Not all of them.” I smoothed my skirt and pulled the hem of my shirt. “I’m not. I’m just another ‘it.’”

  “Says who?”

  “Everyone.”

  He smiled. “Everyone?”

  I looked up, almost to his eyes. Just short of the mark I rested my gaze on his neck. I saw burn scars again, creeping down his neck and under his shirt.

  “Do you?” he said.

  I looked down again. “Do I what?”

  “Do you consider yourself a woman or an ‘it?’”

  I hesitated, then started again, “Why does it matter what I think if everyone else thinks something different?”

  “I guess that’s something you need to consider. If you care more about what others think than your own opinions.” He stood. “Now, let’s have fun with this appointment today. What do you say?”

  “Fun is an afternoon with my toes dipped in the sand. Not this.”

  “You’re doing great, Sarah. You’ll be healed completely before you know it.”

  “You would know, huh?” I nodded toward his scars. “What happened?”

  He shook his head. “That’s not my story to tell.”

  “Who’s story is it?”

  “Anastasia’s.” He clapped his hands and steadied himself on a balance beam. “Come over here and we’ll do a few stretches.”

  Sometimes I forgot that I was no longer pretty and misread friendliness for flirtation. Sometimes I felt like me again. I forgot I wasn’t the same anymore. Who would ever flirt with me? Who am I kidding? I thought as I stood in front of Vasili with my hands at my sides.

  He lifted my right arm and extended it in front of me. Then he moved behind me and gently held my left shoulder as he pulled my right arm toward my left side. “Stay straight and breathe in,” he said. His palm warmed my back. I hadn’t let James touch me since the accident and although my therapist obviously had no attraction to me, I somewhat enjoyed his touch. Not sensually. Not even romantically. I simply enjoyed the feeling of someone touching me like I was a normal person. I wasn’t a monster.

  After our session, I stalled at the door and turned back. “Who’s Anastasia?”

  He smiled. “My niece.”

  I nodded, hoping my internal relief didn’t showcase itself on my face. Not that it mattered, I told myself. He’d never consider me.

  “One more question,” I said. “Do you know of any nice single women looking for love? I know a really sweet guy...”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll ask my fiancé and let you know. I’m sure we can find someone.”

  I ignored the pain in my chest as my mind lingered on the word. That word. Fiancé.

  I stepped back into the room and closed the door a little. “You know, I was proposed to right before this happened.”

  He glanced at my bare left hand. “What happened?”

  “He’s waiting for me to put the ring back on.”

  “No, I mean, how’d you get burned?”

  “Campfire. I asked him to put it out before we went to bed. I’ve feared fire since I was five. Always checked to make sure the fire alarms were working. Anyway, he fell asleep and the wind must’ve knocked gasoline over. Somehow the stream trailed to our tent and the fire followed after.”

  “Wow, Sarah. Sounds like a great gift you’ve been given.”

  I blinked, processing his response. “A gift? Most people apologize or nod their heads, unable to come up with the words to say.” I smiled. “You are the first person who hasn’t pitied me. Thank you for that.”

  “There’s nothing to pity.” He walked toward the door as I opened it again. “Are you doing anything this Friday?”

  I hope I didn’t blush. “Me?”

  “My family is having an engagement party for me and Natalie. You could come. Meet little Anastasia.”

  I tried to smile. “Thank you so much for the invite. Maybe some other time. I don’t want to crash the party.”

  “No. Not at all. My family isn’t like that. Natalie would love you. And hey, bring your friend and we can try to find him a date.”

  I almost laughed. “Some other time.”

  I walked outside into the bright autumn d
ay. Soon the leaves would be crunching beneath my feet, but for now they clung to their branches in various colors. Ella waved from her car. I held up my hand and crossed the street.

  “Where’s Adelaide?” I said, sitting down in her passenger’s seat.

  “She’s napping at home with Gavin.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry to hold you up. It’s just th—“

  “Listen dearie, no apologies needed.” She waved her finger in my face as she reversed the car out of her parking space.

  “My therapist invited me to his engagement party.”

  “Interesting. Why?”

  “I’m still trying to figure that out. He doesn’t feel sorry for me, so it can’t be that.”

  “Are you going?”

  I laughed. “Of course not.”

  “Just go.”

  “I’m not ready to be normal again yet.”

  Ella kept quiet until we got home. We parted ways once inside. I greeted Adelaide and Gavin, then meandered to my room. I couldn’t wait to move into my own place. I felt like such a burden to everyone in so many ways.

  Cheyenne sat up on her bed when I entered the room. “Hey. Looks like you’re doing pretty well. I don’t think you’ll need me here much longer.”

  “You can take the full-time position if you want. I should be fine.” I propped several pillows on my bed and reclined. The most venial tasks tuckered me out big time.

  Cheyenne’s face lit up.

  James stood in the doorway.

  She stood. “I can give you two some time.”

  “No,” James said. “You can stay.”

  Cheyenne pretended to busy herself in her latest nursing textbook as James sat on the edge of my bed by my feet. He moved his hand toward my toes. I moved them away. His hand dropped to the bed. Cheyenne turned a page and looked down when I caught her staring. I closed my eyes. How could I convince him to move on? It was getting more and more difficult for me to hide my desire for him to hold me in his arms. I wanted his arms around me. I wanted to feel his lips on what was left of my face. But one touch from him and I’d lose it. And he’d never move on. Not if he saw how much I needed him.

  When I opened my eyes he was staring at me. His eyes glistened. “I’m not going anywhere, Sarah. You can’t push me away.”

  He tried to touch my hand. I pulled away, fighting back tears with everything inside of me. He brushed his fingers through his hair and sighed. I wanted his fingers tangled in my hair like the night he proposed. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. James, I screamed inside as my chest tightened. I still love you, sweet boy. I’m doing this because I want better for you.

  “We will never be together, James.” I tried to look mean. “Look, I’ve done a lot of thinking and I realized we just aren’t good for each other.”

  “We are so good for each other. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. This terrible mess doesn’t change that.”

  “You will find someone better.”

  “Please, Sarah.” He covered his eyes with his hands and shook his head. “This is all my fault. My stupid idiot self. I’ve ruined everything.”

  And he’d feel that way every day for the rest of our lives if I didn’t help him find someone else. I caught Cheyenne losing herself in him again. She looked away, embarrassed. As much as it pained me to let him go, I knew Cheyenne would be good to him. She deserved him. I trusted her with the heart I once held. My sweet James.

  I reached for his hand and squeezed it. His eyes gained a little more color and life. He squeezed back.

  “Could you do me a favor?” I said. “I’d love some ice cream from Bailey’s shop.”

  “Caramel Brownie Dream?”

  I nodded.

  “Cheyenne,” I said.

  She pretended to look back to her book.

  “Would you mind keeping him company? I need some time alone.”

  She practically somersaulted off the bed. James twisted the keys in his hand as he stood and waited for her. A few seconds later, they left the room. When the car doors shut and the engine started, I pulled a pillow to my face and cried into the fluff. I tried not to remember the pillows from his proposal as I pressed the cotton against my face. I tried not to imagine all the nights we were going to spend together, waking up to each other’s smile. I tried, so unbelievably hard, not to cry myself to sleep as I blocked thoughts from growing seeds in my heart.

  But I did. I cried myself right into a dream. A dream of life before the fire.

  Five

  Ella held Adelaide on Cheyenne’s bed. I rubbed my eyes and looked at the clock. Three hours passed. I checked my nightstand. No ice cream. Did my plan work?

  “James and Cheyenne brought you ice cream, but you were deep in sleep. It’s in the freezer if you want it.”

  I shook my head. “You can have it.”

  “Are you trying to set James and Cheyenne up?”

  “Why do you know me so well?”

  She placed Adelaide on the bed beside her.

  I prepared myself to sit up. Always hurt a lot to get up after sleeping. My poor muscles were so tense. Ella noticed my struggle and helped swing my legs over the bed while she kept her other hand on her baby’s belly.

  “Thank you,” I said. “So, did it work?”

  “I don’t like this idea.” Her phone rang. She silenced it and continued, “If you both love each other, why would you let an obstacle keep you apart?”

  “This isn’t an obstacle. If we stay together he will always blame himself. Life will never be normal for him.”

  “What about you?” She leaned back and rubbed Adelaide’s face. “How are you?”

  I stood and reached for the water bottle on my bed. “I’m fine. Everything will be fine.”

  “Sometimes everything isn’t fine. And that’s okay.”

  I needed to focus on others instead of myself, but how? I couldn’t even drive myself anywhere. I longed for the day I’d be completely self-sufficient again. I dreamed of my own apartment from paint colors to bedspreads. Funny, simply hanging a picture myself or opening a jar of jam would serve as a great accomplishment at this point.

  Ella carried Adelaide to the door and smiled back at me. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

  “Where’s Cheyenne?”

  “Exactly where you want her.”

  “James? Really?”

  She sighed and disappeared down the hallway.

  Gavin held Adelaide and watched Ella make dinner. Southwest stuffed butternut squash. I watched a rerun of Home Improvement while they enjoyed their family, trying to ignore the temptation to stare at them with envy. Ella always said I had it easy, but I felt the same about her. She was successful at everything she did. An amazing violinist and a brilliant entrepreneur. A sweet wife and a gentle mother. And we can’t forget the cooking. Not only did she cook fantastic meals, but she presented them artfully, complete with song and dance.

  She deserved it though.

  I switched the channel to the local news. “Hey, guys. Isn’t that your friend’s husband? Mwenye?”

  Ella and Gavin entered the living room and stood only feet from the television. Gavin wrapped his arm around Ella and pulled her into him. She pressed her lips against the back of her hand and inhaled deeply.

  “Maybe someone should call Tylissa?” I said.

  Without blinking or acknowledging me, Gavin watched the story unfold on the screen. I never understood why reporters seemed excited to release bad news. Didn’t they have even a meager dose of empathy?

  Ella wiped her face on a dish towel and picked up her phone from the fireplace mantle under the television. I motioned to Gavin to take the food out of the oven before it burned, if it hadn’t already. He jogged to the kitchen as Ella paced the livi
ng room. “Tylissa, what’s going on? I thought you got a lawyer?” She waited as Tylissa spoke. I couldn’t hear the words. Only crying. “But he’s innocent. You need to do something.” More crying on the other end. “Yes, of course. Wait a week or so. We’ll see you then. I love you.”

  Ella hung up and slapped her phone against her thigh. “I can’t believe this.”

  “What happened?” I said.

  “Mwenye is innocent and if they’d only run some DNA tests they’d see that.”

  “But he said he was guilty.”

  “He’s saying it to protect someone.”

  “Who?”

  “Not my story to tell.”

  “What’s the deal with everyone saying that lately?”

  “Who’s everyone?”

  “Well,” I smiled. “You and Vasili. Is it because you don’t want to gossip or what?”

  “No. Just not my place to say. Sometimes we get so caught up in talking about everyone else’s life story that we forget to live our own. I don’t want to be one of those people who never hesitates to spout off the details of others.”

  “Well said.” I laughed. “Kind of weird that I’m sitting here laughing when Tylissa’s husband was just taken to death row.”

  Ella’s face glowed. “Now you see. Life doesn’t stop for anyone, no matter how much we feel bad for our best friends.”

  Someone knocked on the door. Ella opened it and welcomed James. My heart stopped beating for a few seconds, then started full force. He squeezed my shoulder from behind. “Can we talk?”

  I nodded.

  “Alone. Upstairs.”

  I followed him to my room and sat on the chair in the corner, so that he couldn’t touch me. Kneeling before me, he took my left hand.

  “Sarah,” he said. “I want you. And no one else. Your body doesn’t change who you are to me. Let me love you.” He pulled something out of his pocket. My ring. “Will you please marry me? Please?”

  I shook my head. Hold it together, I petitioned myself. Keep your emotions at bay.

  I pushed his hand toward his chest. “You are one of the most endearing people I’ve ever known, James. It would be an honor to be your wife, but I ca—“