Page 42 of Scorched Hearts

Hunter stayed quiet for a while. Elle could only hear the occasional sounds of breathing on the line. She enjoyed this wordless moment between them, acknowledging the heavy subject lying in between them, connecting their minds with a net of grief, of something unresolved that quietly knew its place in their conversation. When Hallie spoke, her voice was slightly raspy, more vulnerable than Elle had ever heard her be before.

“I’ve always known the risks of this job. For a long time, I thought having a family of my own would be impossible due to the nature of my profession. I took care of new recruits, I drilled into them the risks and importance of attention to detail and communication, all that so that they wouldn’t go in and get themselves killed.” She paused, drawing in a long breath before continuing. “I knew all that, Elle. And still—the day Maria fell, it felt as if some door suddenly opened and sucked me in with no way back. It was a shock to all of us, and there is no shame in your grief. I’d say it’s actually quite expected.”

Elle nodded pensively, grateful for each word that soothed her like dripping honey. There was no rush or impatience in Hunter’s voice, and she realized this might had been what she needed all along.

“I think I needed to speak to you, specifically, about this. You know, because you were there, too. I feel like even though others mean well, talking to them doesn’t make me feel at ease the same way talking to you does.”

“That’s understandable,” Hunter replied.

“I still…I feel guilty about that. Not stopping it from happening, and now surviving even though the chances were slim.” Elle wanted to put the raw feeling into some delicate words, wrap the soreness of it in wrapping paper and gift it to Hunter, hoping she’d unpack the burning sensation herself.

“That’s a natural feeling. If I’m being honest with you, I feel it, too, every day since the accident.” She paused. “But there’s nothing we can do about it now, Elle, and pondering what ifs won’t change the situation. We just need to march onward, help others, teach them better, be more attentive, and allow ourselves to grieve in private. You’ll have a lot of time to process everything now. From what I hear, you’re not getting out any time soon.”

Elle was infinitely grateful for the smooth subject change. She’d received all the reassurance she could ask for and felt a bit more comfortable with her still raw emotions. Then she looked at her legs, resigned.

“I don’t know what will happen to me. I have no feeling in my legs,” she said, sighing.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. They’re talking about rehabilitation, though, and that it’s difficult to say how well I’ll recover just yet. So maybe it’s not going to be that bad…” Elle said with a bit more hope in her tone than what she really felt.

“Well, fingers crossed. You know we’ve all got your back at the station, Elle. I need to get going now, and I’m sure you need some sleep, too, but if you ever need anything from us, then you know who to call.”

Hanging up, Elle felt the need to process all the information she’d learned from Hunter. The fact that it was Maya who’d saved her life weighed heavily on her, knowing how difficult it must have been like to operate on someone she knew, and Elle’s head, no less. She craved the need to talk to her but felt too depleted by all the day’s encounters to pick up the phone again. Her body felt leaden, craving sleep.

Her eyes began closing, but something stopped her from falling asleep just yet. Through the remaining slits of her vision, she saw a newspaper lying on the nightstand. Curious, Elle reached for it and studied the first page.

Another firefighter gravely injured following the tragic death of firefighter Maria Smith!

“Oh look, Mom, I’ve made it into the newspapers,” Elle muttered to herself.

The piece had a sensationalist tone, full of exclamation marks and speculative writing. The journalist tried guessing Elle’s injuries but clearly didn’t have any reliable sources. On the left was a picture of Maria’s funeral. Elle felt strange, being lumped together with Maria on the same page. She supposed she’d been close to death, but having survived, she didn’t feel the actual danger that had loomed over her before. Everything had happened to her while she was unconscious from start to finish, and she felt as if the near deadness of it had eluded her completely. She hadn’t experienced any fear for her life, or at least didn’t remember.

When she settled in her bed once more readying herself to sleep, the memories of her and Maya following Maria’s death came to her mind. She remembered how gentle Maya was, how effortlessly caring. She hoped this would still be the case when they saw each other again. She knew she’d have to apologize once and for all, make a blank slate for both of them to rewrite their story together. The right words would have to come to her somehow so Maya would know how much she cared about her.

Thinking this through, her eyes began closing, this time finally taking her away into the soft sheets of sleep. This time she had no dreams, no memories playing in her head. Her body was thrown into a restorative kind of rest, every tissue fighting to bring her back together.

16

MAYA

After the swift phone conversation with Ramirez, Maya felt as if her whole body was being constantly pinched by needles, no matter whether she sat, stood, walked around, or worked. And she had to work. The constant income of ambulances overflowing with patients put oceans of work on her and her colleagues’ backs, tens of hours overtime, painkillers, black coffees, energy drinks, and Ubers home. She felt desperate to see Elle, yet she had to wait until the end of her never-ending shift. She had to think of her patients. She had to remain attentive during surgery. Often, she felt inhuman, above-human in some sense, existing only within the framework of her work. But that had to be broken for Elle.

Finally, at the fringes of dawn, she was free to go. Her limbs and back felt incredibly sore, but the air was fresh, the kind of freshness that only late summer at dawn can provide. She couldn’t go to Elle at this hour, naturally, yet she couldn’t force herself to go home to sleep, either, afraid she’d oversleep and miss the visiting hours window. She decided to drive to a cafe and wait there, perhaps pick up a book on her way, even though she knew very well she’d have no patience or focus for reading.

She drove her car for the first time in days, feeling strangely at peace, knowing what to do. She’d make sure Elle got the best care, the best advice, the best rehabilitation team. This was one advantage of being a doctor she’d never let go of—she always knew what was best for her family, or at least had the tools to learn it quickly.

Was Elle her family again? Maya didn’t want to ponder the question before having the chance to talk to her.

She knew a bakery-coffee shop open from 6 a.m. and directed her car there. It was usually full of businesspeople readying themselves for a work-related flight or hopeless cases of partying all night and looking for a place to sit with a coffee in the morning. She liked observing them, the people who’d clearly pulled an all-nighter but definitely not for work-related reasons. Their lives seemed so strangely separated from hers, seemed so completely frivolous and alien. Even in med school, she could never afford to party like that. Some of the teenagers, or people in their early twenties, sat coupled, ostentatiously in love. Sipping from the same cup, sneaking each other little kisses. For the first time in years, however, Maya didn’t feel jaded about seeing them. There was no tinge of jealousy, only a touch of warmth of recognition. She smiled to herself, ordering a lavender latte.

Sitting down with her drink, Maya checked the time. 6:36 a.m. She felt like risking it and calling Colin. Sometimes he had to be up at this hour, so perhaps she could catch him brushing his teeth or buttoning his shirt. The steady beeping on the line made her feel drowsy for a moment, the tiring night finally laying its claim on her mind, but Colin’s voice quickly brought her back on track.

“What’s up?” he said with a barely concealed yawn.

“I hoped you’d have a second to talk, maybe?” She let her voice take its natural route instead of pretending she wasn’t tired, that she wasn’t worried and overwhelmed.

“What happened? Are you all right?”

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