Page 29 of The Fates We Tame
“Do I look cool doing it?” she asks.
“Wish I could say you did, Sparrow.”
She laughs at that. “Okay, round two. The inhale.”
“Keep it small.”
Sophia blows out a breath, then tries to inhale. Immediately, she begins coughing and spluttering. In between, she sticks out her tongue and looks like she’s going to gag. Her eye waters. Then she sneaks a finger to wipe beneath her eye patch. I guess eyelids surrounding prosthetic eyes still water.
Laughing, I take the cigarette from her and rub circles on her back. “Easy, Sparrow. Breathe through your nose.”
“I’m trying, but I think…I just burned out…my windpipe.”
I take a draw on my cigarette while she composes herself.
“That was gross,” she says. “How can you suck that into your lungs?”
“Pretty certain they’ve adapted at this point.”
She leans back in her chair and lifts her face to the weak fall sun. “You should bring me a blanket.”
“Or next time you should bring a coat.”
“We could ask Irv for a fire pit. I bet he’d find one.”
I agree. “He probably would. But I’m pretty certain the smell of something burning would send people looking for us, Sparrow.”
“Oh, wait. I said yesterday to Saint and Briar that I wish I had a cool nickname, and I do. Sparrow.”
“Don’t read too much into it,” I say. Yet I can’t help but crack a smile.
“You know what’s wild?” she asks.
“What’s that?”
“I have this yearning to go run through a forest. I mean, I’ve read about them, and seen them in movies. But I have no idea whether forests are as cool as they look.” She repositions her foot by lifting her knee with her hands. “Might be a while before I can run through them. Maybe more of a leisurely stroll. A saunter, maybe.”
“You don’t strike me as a forest girl. Did your family tell you if you ever went camping? Hiking?”
She shakes her head. “I was more a champagne and parties kinda girl, apparently.”
I glance at her. “Now that I can see.”
“Strange thing is that the idea of a party is my worst nightmare now. Did Dr. Polunin give you the whole spiel about the Welsh woman who woke up with an American accent?”
I nod. “She did.” Along with a whole list of ways in which people were never the same person again after a coma or amnesia.
Sophia leans back on the chair and tilts her face to the sun. “I think I’m a forest girl now.”
“Maybe I’ll take you when we’re both out of here. Don’t like the idea of you getting lost.”
She smiles softly. “I think that would be a really lovely idea.”
We sit in silence beyond the occasional car coming and going from the parking lot. The gutsy roar of a sports car gets louder and parks on the other side of our fence screen. Two doors open and close with a slam.
“Don’t you feel even a bit bad for her? Sophia’s been through a lot,” a man says.
Sophia tilts her head in the direction of the speaker. It must be one of her brothers.
