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I do my best to sit up on the edge of the bed as my mom rounds the corner with tears in her eyes.

She takes one look at me and loses it, coming toward me, unsure of where or how to hug me without hurting me.

“I’m okay, Mom,” I tell her as she sits down beside me on my good side and hugs my neck. Her short blonde hair is messy, and her eyes are puffy under her glasses. She definitely looks like she needs sleep. My dad texted me and told me she wouldn’t let him stop all the way home from their haul in California.

I shake my head. “I’m okay,” I repeat, to make sure she understands.

“No, you’re not. Oh, my baby,” she cries. “Be honest,” she adds, “what can I do?”

“Okay, if I’m being honest… I’m groggy from this shit they’re giving me, and I fucked up my back when I fell, and my skin feels like it’s on fire, but, Mom,I’m okay,” I say, hoping she’ll get my message.

I side eye Violette standing in the doorway, clicking away on the computer that the nurses roll from room to room. My heart breaks all over again as I realize Vi’s mother never got this, the son who was injured but made it through. My mom instantly understands when she sees me looking at Violette. She sits up and sniffs.

“I’m sorry, it took me way too long to get here.” She dots under her glasses with a tissue from her pocket.

Now that she and my dad are empty nesters, she sometimes travels with him on his long hauls so they can be together after so many years of being apart. He owns his truck and it’s quite comfortable, with a little bedroom in the cab and storage. It’s luxury on wheels. My dad says it’s a nice way to spend his last few working years. They treat it almost like a road trip.

“Dad is getting the things you asked for from your house. He should be back real soon.” My mom wipes her eyes as Violette finishes typing into her computer just outside the door and turns to face us.

“I’ll let you have a quick visit and then I’ll come back to check and change your dressings,” Violette says with a nod.

My eyes flick to hers. Even after everything that happened between us and years apart, I still feel the need to make sure she’s okay.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” My mom stands and makes her way to Violette. “I’m so glad he’s in your hands all week.” My mom is a much taller woman than Violette, and she pulls her right in for a hug.

Violette tells her I’m going to be fine and hugs her back, her eyes meet mine over my mom’s shoulder. I smirk at her and mouth the words “thank you.”Her eyes don’t soften like I want them to—like they used to. She simply pulls back from my mom.

“It’s my job, you don’t have to thank me, Liz. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” she says in a no-nonsense tone.

She turns to leave the room and because old habits die hard, I can’t help but notice how great she looks in her scrubs, with her long ponytail hanging in graceful waves down to her mid back.

My mom comes toward me when Violette is out of earshot and gives me a barely there tap at the back of my head as if to give me shit.

“You might want to fix that. She’s a gem. Remember when she used to like you?” she notes with a small laugh. Should’ve never told my parents what happened with Violette. They’ve never let me hear the end of it, they always liked her.

I chuckle and lean back in my bed, guess that sympathy from earlier is over. My mother chats my ear off about their trip down through Roswell, New Mexico. She rambles when she’s nervous or worrying so I just let her go. Within fifteen minutes my dadis coming through the doorway with all my stuff from home. I’m basically a younger spitting image of him, only I’m an inch or so taller than he is. His hair has gone gray, but he looks happy, relaxed even. I haven’t seen him since before fire season started, but I’ve talked to him over text almost every day.

“Hey, kid, looking better than I thought you would,” he says, coming to me to give me a pat on my good shoulder.

“Thanks.”

“Sorry, but I just gotta say it.” He smirks. “What are the odds the one that got away is your nurse?” he says, hiking his thumb over his shoulder. My mother chuckles.

“Laugh it up, you two.” I extend my good arm behind my head.

“Well, no time like the present to start fresh. And seems to me, you’re already off to a good start,” my dad says, taking a seat beside me.

“How so?”

“You made it outta that pit and she’s here. You know, it might not be easy to make a friend out of her again, but nothing worth having ever is and you’ve got a lot of years to make up for.”

I close my eyes, taking a breath.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

AGE 18

Teaching Violette Taylor science

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