Heal Me

Chapter Twenty Eight

It was two whole days before the hospital would release me, and let me tell you what a relief it is to be in a warm bubble bath, in your own tub, in your own home. It turned out, the brain damage was minimal – yes, that sounds like a bad thing. But as precious Dr. Mills explained, we suffer a some brain damage every single day. Some more than others...

As I rested in my tub with papaya conditioner in my hair, there was a knock at the door. I'd forgotten to lock it, so Sarah and Cat decided to rush right in.

"I'm fine!" I told them. "One bump on the head, seriously..."

"We just wanted to show you something..." Sarah sang. Her eyes were clear and bright for the first time in years, and she was even starting to put on a few pounds since she'd sworn off drugs and dancing. She'd also accepted my offer to help with culinary school - that is if dear old Dad would reinstate my allowance.

Which he did. And it didn't take a lot of convincing, either. The only stipulation was that I keep working a job – any job.

"What?" I asked, sliding farther under the bubbles. "What's so important that it couldn't wait?"

Cat left and returned with a basket of wild-flowers so huge it obscured any view of her head. "Guess who sent them?" she asked on a giggle.

"Oh gee..." I rolled my eyes and pretended not to have a clue. "Marcus?"

They both laughed.

Cat set the flowers on the toilette where I could reach for the tiny card attached. "What's it say?" she asked, practically jumping up and down.

To my favorite healer of all time. I miss you like crazy. –Smith

Mason had taken me home from the hospital and stayed for a week to make sure I was taken care of. Now that he was back at his own apartment, I was getting flowers every other day, and Sarah and Cat were missing him almost as much as I was.

I handed them the card with a sigh. "Okay, now get out. I need to get ready."

"Actually, we both need to get ready," Sarah corrected. "Greg's coming along, too."

After Mason had promised nothing fancy, I'd agreed to go out with him - on our first official date. So, Sarah went to her room, and I dried my hair. By the time the guys were knocking on our door, we were ready.

"Hey." I smiled shyly when they entered.

Even though he'd seen the worst of me, that didn't deter him from pulling me into a long hug. "I missed you."

"I heard."

"Are you ready?" Mason was wearing a long wool coat over dark jeans and a black sweatshirt. The hood was visible above the collar of the jacket, and none of it was clue enough as to where we were headed.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"You'll see," he teased. We escaped the apartment to the sound of Cat telling us not to be home early. Outside, the cold was blistering as we walked two blocks to a coffee shop I had somehow never noticed before. Mason opened the door for me. "After you."

Sarah was giving me a knowing look as she and Greg swept passed us on their way to a table in the back.

"Coffee?" I asked Mason.

The room was washed in a soft, orange glow from several old-fashioned table lamps. The furniture was quaint, if not new. Several wooden tables were scratched up and surrounded by mismatched chairs that had at one time been painted a version of blue or green. Behind the counter, two girls were wearing their street clothes – no uniforms – and frothing milk while laughing about some unknown joke. Everyone else in the café was busy staring at their laptops until Mason locked the door behind us and turned the open sign to closed.