They both laughed, and as Cheyenne pulled away to take a seat in the armchair, Ember smoothed her matted blonde hair away from her face, tore more tissues out of the box, and made a completely unnecessary and almost useless attempt to clean herself up. This time, though, she noticed the trashcan by the bed and used it.
“I didn’t actually have to drop anything.” The halfling pulled her legs up under her to cross them on the chair. “I mean, even if I did, I’d still be here right now.”
“I know. I’m glad you weren’t busy, then.” Ember frowned at the wadded, tear-stained hospital sheet in her lap, pulling at it weakly. “Makes me feel like less of a parasite.”
“Woah!” Cheyenne waited for her friend to explain what the hell that was supposed to mean, but Ember just swallowed and shook her head. “What happened, Em?”
“I bet you can guess.”
Although she bit back a laugh at that, it came out in a strangled choke. Ember shot her a confused look, and the halfling shrugged before counting it out on her fingers. “I mean, let’s see. You got shot at a skatepark by an orc asshole before all your other asshole friends left you for dead. Back surgery. Spinal injury. You’re third-generation fae on this side of the Border who can’t actually do magic. Your parents are dicks. Your best friend’s a drow halfling. And some asshat put that trashcan all the way on the other side of the room. It could be anything.”
For several seconds, Ember’s wide, glistening eyes studied Cheyenne’s face in shock. Then she burst out laughing and grabbed another tissue. “Fair enough.”
“Let me know if I left something out. I’m keeping a running list.”
Ember shook her head, looked at the ceiling with a long sigh, and seemed to come out of her funk. “You covered everything. I just got off the phone with my dad.”
“Oh, yeah?” Cheyenne leaned forward over her crossed legs and clasped her hands. “Normally, I’d just assume it went like every other call with him. But you don’t usually get this upset about it.”
“Yeah, well, things have changed a little. For me, anyway.” Ember gestured around the hospital room. “And nothing’s changed for him at all.”
“He just keeps winning that blue ribbon for stability, huh?”
“Stability. Stupidity. They’re the same thing with him.” After downing the rest of the water in the cup and setting it back on the table, Ember went right back to fiddling with the sheets. “Don’t get me wrong, he sounded like a concerned parent when I was finally able to call him.”
“But he’s not coming down to see you.”
“I don’t think it even crossed his mind. And I wouldn’t have asked, anyway. I mean, I haven’t gone back to Chicago once since I moved out here for freshman year. And I’m pretty sure we’re both better off because of it.”
Cheyenne waited for her friend to get to the point. If she was talking around the problem like this, it must be pretty bad.
“So no, I wasn’t expecting some over-the-top reunion phone call. I wasn’t even planning on calling him again anyway, but I guess I thought…” Ember scrunched her eyes, rubbed them, and blinked. “I don’t even know what I was thinking. It was a dumb idea.”
“What did he say?”
“The usual.”
The halfling snorted and stood from the armchair just so she could drag it with one hand as close as it would get to the hospital bed. “Okay.”
“What?” Ember’s small, weak laugh sounded both exhausted and hopeful.
Cheyenne sat again and crossed her legs beneath her. “Just say it already, Em. I didn’t come here to judge you, but you’re talking about everything else except what actually happened, and it’s kinda making me dizzy.”
“Dizzy, huh?”
“I’m gonna try not to fall out of this chair. So spit it out.” Holding back a laugh, the half-drow scanned the hospital room. “What could you possibly have to hide from me right now?”
Ember wrinkled her nose. “Probably not as much as you’re hiding. Like, what the hell happened to your shoulder?”
The smile disappeared from Cheyenne’s face, and she shot her friend a deadpan stare. “Nice try. You first.”
“Fine.” Ember searched the ceiling for whatever was so hard to say. “Dr. Andrews was in here with me for a long time this morning to talk about how the surgery went, what they’re seeing in my recovery, blah, blah, blah. And then he laid out some really great treatment plans. You know, like recovery at home when I get out of here. Rehab. There’s some new program that I guess already has a really good track record for getting people with the same issues back on their feet.”
Both of them realized the double meaning at the same time and shared a wry laugh.
“Yeah, and literally, too,” Ember added. “I mean, I don’t have any delusions about running a 5K or anything. And by ‘pretty good track record,’ we’re talking like a twenty percent chance or something, the way Dr. Andrews described it. So it’s a really big maybe, but I’d at least have a chance of being able to mostly move around on my own again. Like with a cane or something.”
“Hey, you would rock a cane.” Cheyenne’s grin seemed to spill over onto Ember too until the other woman huffed in defeat and let out an overwhelmed groan. “You totally would. I’ll get you a badass top hat to go with it.”
“Oh, awesome. Thanks.” Ember playfully rolled her eyes, but the joking obviously wasn’t helping enough. “It’s kinda pointless to start planning for all that right now, though.”
“Why? Because you’re still in this super-comfy bed?”
“No, because it’s not gonna happen.” Ember shrugged. “Hope’s great and everything, having a positive attitude, or whatever. But there’s hope, and then there’s straight-up denial.”
Cheyenne scoffed. “You’ve never let your dad’s total lack of faith in you stop you from doing anything.
