Page 8 of Up In Flames
“Thanks to you.”
Will shook his head. “I was hardly the only person there.”
“Okay, then thanks to you and everyone else. I don’t remember anyone else being there. Just you… and then the ambulance.”
Will stopped in front of a cafe, the kind with a chalkboard sign on the sidewalk offering up a list of the day’s specials. A few customers sat near the front windows, but we must have arrived during a lull because they were the only ones inside.
“Did you want to sit and have a coffee while we talk?”
I didn’t particularly want coffee, but I didn't think I could ask anything if I were strolling down the street like I didn’t have a care in the world. I needed to sit so I could focus.
“Yeah, uh, okay.”
I followed him inside and realized he was definitely a regular here when the guy behind the counter asked if he wanted the usual.
“Yeah, that’d be great.” Will said to him. “What do you want? It’s on me.”
I scanned the menu that was on the back wall. “Raspberry lemonade?”
“Raspberry lemonade for Oren.” Will turned to me. “Grab a table near the back, and I’ll be right over.”
I didn’t question why that table, or why Will wanted to pay for my drink. It was like my brain was stuck in neutral, and I was just coasting along, doing what I was told. Will came to the table and sat down across from me. The raspberry lemonade looked delicious, but my throat was too tight to think about swallowing yet.
“Do you want me to just tell you what happened when I rolled up on the scene, or do you have specific questions you wanted to ask?”
Understanding flicked through my brain, waking it up. “You’ve done this kind of thing before.”
He nodded. “Sometimes people don’t remember things, and they go looking for answers. It’s natural to want to fill in those blanks.”
He looked like he was hesitant to say what was really on his mind.
“Are there gaps in my memory that I shouldn’t want filled? Because I don’t remember crashing. I remember…” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath hoping to undo the knot of dread in my stomach. “I remember you.”
CHAPTER 4
Will
Oren had his arms wrapped around himself like he was trying to keep himself in one, solid piece. While I didn’t have all the answers for him, not having been there when the accident occurred, I could tell him what I knew.
“By the time I got there, you’d already been in and out of consciousness for a few minutes according to the witnesses.” Talking to one of them might have given him more information, but it was also a tossup. People didn’t always remember things the way they happened. Coming on an accident scene was different than watching something horrible happen in front of you. When people witnessed something unexpected like that, they weren’t always able to recall events accurately. By the time you realized something awful was unfolding, it was already set in motion.
“Did you have specific questions, or did you want me to just walk you through it?”
Oren’s skin had lost all color, leaving him a sickly shade of gray. “I—just tell me. Please.”
His voice shook when he spoke. His eyes were glassy with tears, but he sat there, holding himself together the best he could to get the answers he needed. I’d seen a lot of brave things inmy line of work, but Oren’s determination to face a devastating memory so he could fill in the missing pieces left me feeling awed by him.
“The car you were in was badly damaged. You’d rolled over several times.” The smell of gasoline returned to me. The sound of glass crunching under my boots. “Somehow the car ended up on all four wheels, but with the damage, we couldn’t get the doors open.”
“I remember that. Being trapped.” Oren reached for his lemonade and took a tentative sip, then drank half like he’d been dying of thirst.
“Once I got you talking, you still didn’t make a lot of sense, but you stayed with me until we got you out of there.”
“There was fire.” Color hadn’t returned to Oren’s complexion, but his voice sounded steadier now. “You carried me out. Like they do in the movies.”
I watched him suck in a deep breath.
“What about my friends? Byron was in the back seat. Rita drove. I didn’t—I couldn’t—everything was so quiet. Not quiet. That’s the wrong word.” Oren ran a hand over his face.
