The Essence of Water

NEW VERSION Chapter 26

When I finally come to I'm wrapped with blankets and a pillow is stuffed under my head. The water is running in the sink and I can hear Jack eating food out of his bowl in the corner of the kitchen. "So it wasn't a dream," I say, blinking a few times to wet my dry eyes. My mind feels like it's been stuffed with cotton but whatever tranquilizer Henry gave me it's wearing off.

"Sorry to disappoint," Henry says. The water shuts off and he comes and leans on the table. He smiles down at me and I smile back. My lips are dry and they crack when I smile.

"You have no idea, being here is like being handed a gift straight from God," I tell him.

Henry chuckles. "Are you thirsty?"

"Yeah," I nod and he fills up a glass. He puts a hand under my neck and helps me sit up, putting the glass to my lips. I let the water slip down my throat and focus on swallowing. When the water is gone I lie back down. My tongue doesn't feel so swollen and my head feels clearer. "Thanks."

"Anytime," he says.

The house is silent. Jack finishes his found and licks any of my fingers that happen to be draped over the edge of the table. I stare at the ceiling and Henry stares at the floor. "Where's Gretchen?" I ask.

"Hmm? Oh, she's gone on a trip to her sisters for a couple weeks," he tells me.

"Good timing for me," I say.

"I'll say," he smiles. Silence. "I would have taken you upstairs but you're a bit too heavy for me to carry and I didn't want to risk you bleeding out on me after I stitched you up."

"It's fine," I assure him.

Henry nods. More silence.

Jack whines from somewhere below me. I look at Henry; he's still staring at the floor. "Henry."

"Hmm?" He looks at me.

"You can say whatever is on your mind," I tell him.

He folds his arms across his stomach and leans back against the counter. How long has it been since I've seen his face? Too long, and yet he hasn't seemed to age a day, but I feel that I've aged a decade. "You've changed," he says simply. It's not a question.

I nod. My throat is going dry. "Could you take me to the living room?" I ask.

"Sure," Henry helps me to my feet. I catch a glance of the sink. The water is red and his medical instruments are soaking in the hot water. We slowly make our way to the living room, but surprisingly I'm not in as much pain as I thought I would be. It hurts, but I expected to pain to be more excruciating. Henry leans me up against the door frame.

"Wait here a second. I need to get a towel. I want to be sure you don't get any blood on the couch. You understand." I nod and he disappears upstairs, as he walks away I can't help but notice the small limp in his walk. Then I remember that he had a broken leg the last time I saw him. It feels so long ago, that night in the river. I close my eyes and shiver. Things were a lot simpler back then.

Henry comes back and lays a few towels down and then lowers me down. It's a new couch and Henry pulls a lever that allows the seat to recline. He pushes it back and pulls my feet up so I'm not sitting up too far to strain the wound. My t-shirt is ripped from were Henry cut it and the bandage he taped over the wound is clearly visible. I can see that I'm still bleeding, a small patch of red shows through the white bandage. Henry puts the pillow under my head and drapes a couple of blankets over me. The room has changed from what I remember. The furniture is new and a TV is mounted on the wall over the fireplace.

While I look around the room Henry starts a fire and soon the warmth stretches out into the room. Henry sits down across from me and we both study each other's faces. "We can talk more comfortably this way," I tell him.