Page 9 of Frozen Flames

Claire

“Claire. Claire! Come fast.”

I drop my eyeliner on the bathroom countertop and head toward my teenage sister’s room.

“What’s wrong?”

“My nose is bleeding!” She shows me her tissue containing a small amount of blood.

“It’s okay, Audrey. It’s just a nosebleed. I get them too sometimes.”

“I don’t know, Claire. I read on Reddit that…” I smile at her comment, tuning her out as I sense her following me back to the bathroom. I need to hurry up, or I’ll be late for work.

“It can also be a chest infection, you know.”

I sigh, putting the creamy blush I applied on my cheeks back into my makeup bag. Then I turn to Audrey, setting both hands on her shoulders. She’s staring at me as if she’s carrying the weight of the world.

Mentally, sometimes I think she is.

Her dark brown eyes are piercing my soul because she’s worried. She’s always worried, and that worries me because the world is beautiful, so beautiful, yet she’s too busy worrying about nosebleeds to notice.

I push a lose strand of hair behind her ear, staring at her big cheeks.

“We’ll monitor the situation, then we’ll go from there. You have allergies too. It could be that.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” She scurries off to her bedroom—no doubt to research more—as I take a deep breath before applying my apricot facial mist.

I’m wearing light purple scrubs today with a matching satin headband. I got a haircut recently, right below my shoulders with curtain bangs.

I’m all ready for another Tuesday with Harvey Stark. I’ve been visualizing finally graduating from the University of Illinois Chicago and being in the workforce, except the first few weeks haven’t gone too well.

Harvey’s quite the moody character.

After finishing college and the licensing process to become a nurse and physical therapy assistant, I took one of the first jobs that I applied for at a rehab center.

Harvey’s PT, Stefan McKleen, is often fully booked, so that’s where I come in. As an in-home patient nurse and physical therapy assistant, I’m able to keep up with Harvey’s daily training routine by following Stefan’s program.

Last Wednesday night, Gemma called and asked me if I would work with Harvey full-time, since she was fully employed now. I agreed, and he seemed aggravated when I told him the next day, as if Gemma hadn’t confirmed this with him.

We’re still on the topic of nosebleeds by the time my sister and I are in the car on our way to her high school. Some days, like today, when my mom has early meetings as a public servant director, I take Audrey to school.

“Did Mom tell you Mrs. Hilton gave me a shit grade on my English essay?” she asks, her feet up on the dashboard.

“Audrey, sweetie, please put your feet down…” I don’t know how many times I have to ask her this—teenagers sometimes, I swear. “It’s more dangerous than a nosebleed.” She’s smirking when I face her, which is when I realize I haven’t answered herquestion. “And yes, Mom told me, I’m sorry. I know that you worked hard on that essay.”

“I did. That teacher has no idea what it’s like to be me! I havereallylow energy lately. It took everything for me to finish it. I’m telling you, the audacity of this one…”

I laugh because my sister has a way with words.

She has multiple sclerosis. She was diagnosed a few years prior, and being a teen and one with MS at that, she must prioritize her sleep to combat extreme fatigue.

“My essay was brilliant—poetic, even—and it was completely wasted on someone with an old-school mindset.”

“What was the topic?” I ask at a red light a few minutes away from our destination.

“Shakespeare and love.”

“Oh, Audrey…what did you say?”

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