Amaranthine

Chapter Three

An oversized desk housed my computer on the other side of the room. I walked over and ran my finger along the smooth edge of the wood. I noticed my word of the day calendar sat perched on one of the shelves; somehow it had been retrieved it from the wreckage.  I picked it up.  The blue card-stock was practically destroyed, some of the pages torn. The entire thing was covered in caked, dried dirt. I swallowed the lump in my throat and set it down.

“What do ya think, I.Q.?” Luke beamed with satisfaction.

“Oh Luke, it’s wonderful! This is an amazing gift.” I threw my arms around him, resting my weight on my good leg. 

“I’m glad you like it. You had me worried there.”

At some point my mom joined us. “Well honey, I suppose you should get settled. You’ve had a very big day.”

I nodded, kissed them both and closed the door after them, turning to the dresser drawers in search of pajamas. Actually getting them on required a great deal of exertion and when I achieved this pathetic little victory, I climbed into my feathery bed, feeling like I'd won the lottery. The small events of the day left me exhausted and it wasn't long before I fell into a dreamless sleep.

***

I don’t know why I thought being discharged from the hospital would signal the end of a long list of side effects but it didn't. My head felt like a construction crew had taken up residence inside it. After learning more about my extensive injuries, it was a small price to pay for being alive, but in the throes of a splitting migraine, I wasn't always so sure.

“Ugh!” I groaned and reached over to my bedside table to grab a small bottle of pills and a glass of water. I shoved the pills into my mouth, took a sip and swallowed, willing them to work.

A combination of reluctance and my current ineptness to do anything made getting out of bed a very slow process.

The good news was that it was Saturday, which meant I didn’t actually have to do anything. I stumbled out of my room, louder than I'd intended because Luke appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “Mornin’ I.Q. Need a little help?”

I looked as if I'd given his question adequate consideration. “I was going to try and use the crutches as skis down the stairs but,” I said with a shrug, “suppose I'll let you help me instead.”

He bolted up the stairs, grabbed my crutches, and set them on the floor before picking me up like I was composed of fine bone china and carrying me to the bottom where he set me down.

“Thanks.”

“Sure thing.” 

My mom was in the kitchen making Belgian waffles. Her face brightened when she saw me. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

Luke set a tall glass of orange juice on the table as I struggled to sit, realizing my current level of uselessness was going to really piss me off sooner rather than later.

Luke moved quickly to assist. “Here, let me help you.”

“No,” I held up my hand to stop him. “I need to learn how to do things for myself.”

He frowned.  “Okay, just be careful. I don’t want you to fall.”

“Good, we have something in common.” I pulled the chair out and set my crutches down while I used table as leverage. Luke, satisfied I wasn't going to break any bones, turned back to the fridge to get an assortment of fresh berries and whipped cream. 

“Listen, Ireland, I thought you might like to go out today.” My mom flipped the waffle maker over and opened it to reveal a perfect, fluffy waffle. She set it on a plate and handed it to Luke, who placed it in front of me. It was like an assembly line of deliciousness. The sugary sweet scent flowed to my nostrils and my stomach grumbled in response. Creating a pile of fruit and whipped cream on top of the waffle, I sat back to watch, fascinated by the cream disappearing into the little squares.