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Chapter Three - Raspberry Lemon

Hessa, who was watching him quite strangely, turned her head to better look at the cover. "A Practical Guide to Rock Microstructure. Isn't that what it's always said?"

"Yeah"—Ollie licked his lips, gasping through a parched throat—"Yeah, it is. I must have just been seeing it wrong." He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. "Sorry."

"What are you apologizing for?" Hessa asked, sitting down next to him and wrapping her arm around his shoulders. "You just had a really rough few days. It's okay if you're feeling off for a little bit. Sarah did prescribe some meds ... do you want me to grab those?"

Closing his eyes, Ollie took a long, deep breath and nodded. "I think so." The image had been so vivid, and so impossible.

Hessa was back a moment later, digging through her purse for the pharmaceutical yellow pill bottle with the white cap. Rather than handing it to him, she rolled the bottle over and read the label herself. "Alright. You're supposed to take one every twelve hours, precisely. If you miss a dose, wait until the next time."

"Should I wait until tonight then? So I don't have to get up at 5 a.m. to take the next one?"

Hessa frowned, then nodded. "Yeah, probably." She tucked the bottle back in her purse. "Just don't read anything else until we get you medicated, alright?"

"I can do that," Ollie agreed. He didn't need to be seeing any more messages that weren't there. "So ... dinner?"

She nodded. "Yeah, dinner. Let's do it. Fifteen minutes."

Seventeen minutes later, Ollie came out of his room, fussing with his new tie. Hessa had bought it for him for his interview, but he didn't know how to operate a tie that wasn't a clip-on. Still, she insisted that a man looking to impress shouldn't get lazy with his tie.

Hessa waited for him in the living room, her gauzy red dress matching the sunset tones of her hijab, eyebrows, and eyelashes. "Do you need help with that?"

"Do I ever not need help with it?"

She shrugged. "When you don't wear it."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know," she said, taking control of the tie. A moment later, she patted the knot that rested over the hollow in his neck. "There you go. Come on, we need to hurry if we want to catch the bus."

But 'hurry' wasn't what she ended up doing. She held his elbow, helping him down the stairs one-by-one with exceeding carefulness. When he tried to go any faster than a crawl, she pulled him slower. She tried not to let him see her worry, but she could only hide so much of it. As much as he appreciated that she cared so much about him, he didn't want to be treated like he couldn't even walk down the stairs on his own.

He didn't complain, but he was very thankful when they reached the bottom floor and she finally let him walk at a reasonable pace. They left the apartment complex and walked the two blocks to the bus stop.

The world looked different to Ollie, but he couldn't quite place how. It was like everything was higher resolution. He'd always had good eyesight, but this was something different. He could see insects crawling in the cracks in the sidewalk and see people ten blocks ahead with perfect clarity. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

He was thankful when they reached the bus stop, so he could sit down and close his eyes. He released a shaky breath and leaned back against the bench, pressing his lips together. Sensory overload was creeping in; there was just too much to see.

Hessa touched his hand. "You okay in there?"

He nodded. "In a minute, yeah."

Ollie focused on his breathing until the bus came. By the time the doors opened, and the bus driver welcomed them in, he felt like he had a better grasp on his surroundings. They found a spot near the middle of the bus, where there were two open seats side-by-side. They rode the bus halfway across the city, to the restaurant he'd taken her for their first outing.

"Hessa! Ollie!" the greeter said, flashing them a smile. "I have your table ready."

Ollie glanced at Hessa with a confused look.

She offered an apologetic smile a shrug. "I called earlier today, before they let you out of the hospital."

"I can't take you out if you make the reservations," he told her with feigned seriousness.

"I'll still let you pay!"

Ollie laughed despite himself. "Okay, okay."

"We shouldn't let him get away," Hessa suggested, pointing at the greeter.

Set on his job, he'd left them behind completely. They jogged to catch up to him, Hessa's heels clicking on the hard floor. Ollie had never learned how she managed to move faster than a walk in them, but she knew how to run when she needed to.

They settled at their table, and a moment later, their waitress came out with two dessert menus. As Hessa flipped hers open, Ollie left his one the table. He was afraid to open it; afraid to see what the letters might do if he dared read them.

"Do you already know what you want?" She eyed him over a picture of a fancy dessert.

"Lemon, I think." He'd been meaning to try their lemon ice cream the last several times, and he always got seduced out of it by weird flavors—pistachio, hot chocolate, sunflower. The sunflower ice cream had been his biggest mistake.

"If I get raspberry, we can try lemon and raspberry together," she pointed out.

"Sounds great to me."

So, they ordered lemon and raspberry, and an extra bowl so they could mix the two. As darkness crept over the city and neon lights replaced the warmth of the sunshine, they joked and laughed and ate their ice cream.

The last of it was melty soup at the bottoms of their bowls by the time Ollie paid and they left their table. They chose to walk home, watching the dancing city lights and enjoying the fresh scent of rain that clung to the city.

And, for a precious few hours, Ollie almost felt like things were going to be okay.