Page 193 of Smoke and Fire
“Hi Bastian.” She lifted a hand and waved him over. The wordBashtyunslurred a little, but came out happy and bright.
He leaned down, wrapped his arms around her, and held her in a long, long hug. When he pulled away, she grinned and adjusted a pair of glasses on her face. I hovered back, content to watch.
A cough racked her body, wet and difficult. Bastian grabbed her a tissue and handed it over. She lay back after she coughed into it.
“I missed you,” she murmured. “You’re safe from the . . . from the fire?”
“I’m safe.” He nodded and sat down at the side of her bed. “I have two days off and wanted to see you. I’m sorry I only made it for a short time on my last break. They said you’re feeling a little weak.”
She nodded, the first signs of trouble clouding her brilliant expression. She licked her lips, biting her bottom lip. She patted her chest. “I’m sick like Daddy.” Her hand reached up to her head. “But not sick up here like Daddy.”
He nodded. “Yeah, your lungs and heart are sick.”
She laughed a little. “They’re sick a lot.”
He nodded.
“Dad’s head is sick. Yeah. Does he remember me?”
“Not yet. Maybe soon?”
She worried her lip with her teeth. Her gaze darted to me, then back to him. She cracked another smile and motioned to me with a hand. “You brought a friend?”
“Yes! Nessa, this is Dahlia.”
Inessa waved.
“Good to meet you, Inessa.” I waved back.
“Your name is a flower. I like dahlias.”
I smiled. “Me too.”
I leaned against the wall while they turned their discussions to the rows of paintings that cluttered the far wall, clearly created by Inessa herself. The angst Bastian carried into this room had completely dissolved away now, and he chattered with Inessa like a fat, happy squirrel.
The canvases at the end of her bed were expertly filled with lakes and mountains and trees. The use of bright colors amidst the earth tones wasn’t accidental. They enhanced the majesty of the peaks with high tones that weren’t natural to nature, but somehowlookednatural in that setting.
Bright pink moss. Orange streaks on rocks mixed with various shades of mossy green. Her fingers had flecks of paint on the end of their stubby lengths.
Did Inessa channel a lot of her energy and day into her paintings? Or did they come easily to her? Clearly, she had a fair amount of experience to have them so well-crafted.
One of the smaller ones deviated from the natural theme to a representation of the kitchen at their Dad’s house. Another painting showed Psycho with electric blue streaks highlighting the whiskers. Somehow, she’d trapped Psycho’s affection for life in the painting.
As if she read my mind, Inessa asked Bastian, “How is Psycho? I miss her. I want to pet her.”
Bastian looked back to me. He motioned with an outstretched hand. I straightened and walked over, self-conscious in front of someone that meant so much to him. Inessa’s smile grew. He stood at my side, a hand on the small of my back.
“Dahlia has been taking care of Psycho while I was fighting the fires. She can tell you more about her.”
“Is Psycho okay?”
Concern layered her thickened tone. I nodded to put her to ease. “Doing great. She plays with me everyday and eats all her food by the time I’ve returned.”
“Does she have the metal balls?” Inessa made a circle with her thumb and index finger. “She likes the pink one.”
“She does. I’ve seen her play with them. She seems very happy.”
Her face dropped a little. “I miss Psycho.”
