Page 68 of Speechless

Warm hands. Henry.

Soft fur. Wet tongue.

“Rowan.”

Black.

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Blink.

Blink.

Henry.

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Water.

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Rowan.

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Apple Pie.

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Black.

32

Henry

Lucy’s been homefrom the hospital for three days now, and I feel like an absolute and utter failure. All I want to do is take care of her but I have no idea what she needs. She mostly lies in bed with Rowan and says she’s fine but her mood seems to have regressed back to the night we met. So without any other bright ideas, I’ve been supplying her with copious amounts of sugar, hoping to lift her spirits.

I want to heal her, get her back to the place she was at just days ago, but today my only goal is to get her fed.

“Luce, are you awake?”

“Mhmm.” She doesn’t open her eyes but stretches just a bit.

“How’s the pain? Do you need any more pills?” I brush some fallen hair off her face and help her sit up in the bed.

“I’m okay, thanks. How long have I been out for?”

“Just a couple of hours. You should really eat something. Are you hungry at all?”

I notice her bite the inside of her cheek, like she’s debating what she wants to say. “Yeah, I kind of am.”

“That’s great. I think Graham finished all the Tiramisu, but we have some coffee ice cream left. I could make you a sundae. That’s . . . Tiramisu adjacent?”

“Actually, I’m sort of craving salt. Do you know if there’s a Jewish deli around here? I would kill for a bowl of matzo ball soup right now.”

“Matzo ball soup?”

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