The Shape of Love

#13 Saturday Early Morning "Soft of Heart"

Flat on her back Lacey lay on the cotton sheets. She'd tucked herself under two blankets as she stared straight ahead at the ceiling. There was no crack, just smooth plaster.

Marie had come to lay next to her moments ago. The only light in the room was from the lamp on Marie's side of the bed. Lacey couldn't wait for it to be switched off, for once she wanted to be plunged into darkness.

She didn't want Marie to see her, the way her eyes had sunken at the thought of the uneven skin on her lower stomach. She didn't want Marie to feel the need to tell her she was sorry or that she was there to talk.

She didn't want pity - maybe that's why she'd never told anyone the events of July 17th. Lacey had always wanted to be the one others could lean on - not the one whose feet were stripped out from under her.

Seconds later her wish was granted as Marie clicked the light off. It must've been three in the morning and the moonless night was like a velvet curtain as Lacey continued to stare upward.

She could still see the jagged crack in the ceiling. Maybe if someone on the hospital floor above her had stomped their foot hard enough the entire ceiling would've crumbled. Lacey would've been swallowed in the pile of rubble, I.V and all. She'd wished for that more than a few times on those sleepless nights.

"When did it happen?" Marie's voice was crisp, cutting the velvet night.

After a delay from Lacey she continued. "The scar, it looks new."

Maybe it was the exhaustion of the day or the darkness that shrouded Lacey's face, leaving her in the sort of anonymity she'd come to be comfortable with, but in that moment Lacey's mouth was able to form the words she'd been so hesitant to let past her lips.

"July 17th." Her voice was no higher than a whisper.

"Can I feel it?"

Marie's question caught Lacey off guard. That was not what she'd expected, but in a way she was relieved. Somehow the idea of touching the wound seemed less intrusive than questioning the circumstances.

"Ok."

Their hands found each others and Lacey guided Marie's fingers to the raised flesh.

"It's like a mountain range." Marie murmured as she ran her fingertips along the curt edges.

"That explains all the backpackers." Lacey deadpanned.

They stayed like that for several minutes - Lacey couldn't be sure as she found herself losing track of time. Marie's soft tracing fingers lulled her into sleep, only woken when the weight on the bed shifted.

Lacey opened her eyes to darkness, but she didn't need her vision to know how the geography of the bed had changed.

In one movement Marie had turned on her side, no longer was she awkwardly stretching her arm to press her delicate fingers on Lacey's skin. Her head inches away from Lacey's neck and her arm draped over her stomach, palm resting on her scar.

Lacey felt tense at first. She'd never anticipated sharing her scar with anyone. The injury was no part of her plan. But here she was, entangled with a woman soft of heart. Her hand pressed against Lacey's bare skin as if she were trying to heal the area, hoping that some of her energy would soften the wound.

As Lacey counted breath after breath that tickled her neck she relaxed her shoulders. She was here, safe, and in a womans arms. 

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