Canvas for Love

by Charlotte Greene

  She looked at my chart and my vitals and then took my pulse again. I could feel my heart racing, and I saw her frown.

  “I just want out of here,” I told her. “I was here for someone else. I’m upset, not sick.”

  She looked at me, trying to gauge my honesty, then nodded. “I know what happened. Quite the show you put on out there in the lobby.”

  “So can I leave?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet. I want to see that heart rate down a little before I let you go. No need to have you pass out on us again. The IV is for fluids—you’re dehydrated.”

  “But I need to know how my friend is doing. Can you tell me?”

  “Not unless you’re a family member,” she said.

  I cursed myself, having already given it away. “Well, can you please just let me go, then? I’m fine, really.”

  She looked at me levelly and then shrugged. “We have a shift change in about ten minutes, and I’ll check on you one more time before I leave. If you can get your heart rate down by the time I get back, I’ll sign you out. Otherwise I want you lying down for at least another hour until the next doctor can get to you.”

  She left, and I made myself lie almost prostrate, my head elevated a little because of the bed. I breathed deeply with my eyes closed to calm my racing heart, but every time I pictured Amelia, somewhere nearby and hurting, my heart rate sped up. I could feel it in my chest, a pounding so hard and strong it pulsed in my ears. I tried to focus on the rhythm, willing it to slow, but nothing worked. It hammered as if I’d been running a race. My entire body thrummed with electricity and nerves.

  I heard the curtain draw back and kept my eyes closed, hoping I could calm myself in the last couple of seconds. The doctor didn’t say anything, and I opened my eyes a moment later, wondering what she was doing.

  It wasn’t a doctor. It was Amelia.

  It took me a long moment to recognize her. Her cheeks were wan and pale, and her body overall looked diminished, sickly. Her eyes were sunken and raw-looking, and her hair, normally lustrous and full, hung in limp, damp, sweaty rings on the side of her face. She’d cut it since I’d last seen her, and it was much shorter than I was used to, but it wasn’t the cut that made it look so terrible. Coupled with her sickly thin and pale face, her sweaty, knotted hair made her look downright ill.

  One arm was in a sling, and she had a large, bloody bandage taped to her forehead and a smaller one across the bridge of her nose. She smelled strongly of something like a campfire, and her skin was smeared with soot. But she was walking and conscious. Again, I remembered the wreckage I’d seen on the side of the road, and I could hardly believe that, two hours later, she was standing here on her own two feet. Like me, she had an IV hooked into her hand, and unlike me, she wore a hospital gown.

  “It is you,” she said. Her voice was scratchy, hoarse.

  I set up straighter and nodded.

  “I thought I heard your voice,” she said. She motioned to the side. “I’m in the cubby next to yours.”

  We continued to stare at each other, neither of us doing anything but looking. It had been so long since I’d seen her, and she looked so different from the old Amelia, that I was shy of her again. Yet even in her current condition, she was stunning, at least to me. My eyes ate her up as if they’d been hungry for her. Hot tears prickled the corners of my eyes, and I blinked quickly, not wanting to lose sight of her long enough to cry.

  Finally, I heard her sigh. The sound of it was weary, pained, but her expression remained blank, closed off. She turned as if to go.

  “Amelia!” I cried. She turned back to me, frowning. “Amelia, please don’t go. Stay with me.” I held out a hand. “Please. Don’t leave me here alone.”

  Her face broke then, and she launched herself at me. I had just enough time to sit upright before she was in my arms. She had only one good arm to both of mine, but we clutched at each other tight and hard. I was too overwrought to cry. My eyes felt hot, burning, but they remained dry. I pulled her closer, wanting to lift her into bed with me, and she gasped in pain.

  “Shit, I’m sorry,” I said, letting her go.

  She shook her head. “Don’t apologize.”

  We clutched each other again, and this time the tears started falling. I could feel hers in my hair and streaking down my neck, but neither of us said anything or did anything. I attempted to favor her injured arm a little, giving it some extra room to avoid crushing it, but she squeezed me so hard with her good arm, I’m sure it hurt her anyway. I no longer cared.

  Finally, she pulled back. On top of her pallor and thinness, her bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes did nothing for her appearance, but I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anyone more beautiful. She was here, and that was all that mattered.

  Sitting up that way was uncomfortable, and I finally lay back. She sat down more firmly on the edge of my bed, looking down at me. She wiped her face with her good hand, smearing the soot with her tears, then took my hand in hers. Her fingers were cold, clammy.

  “Should you be out of bed?” I asked. “You were just in an accident.”

  She shook her head, clearly unfazed. “It doesn’t matter. I just want to look at you.” She paused, her face a mixture of joy and disbelief as she stared. After a moment, however, it crumpled again, and she lifted her good hand from mine to cover her eyes.

  “My God, Chloé, I’m so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am. I really fucked up.”

  I could hardly breathe. I didn’t think we’d get into this here, but clearly she thought it was time to start. I touched her, and she let me take her hand in mine again. I didn’t respond, and she continued to look down at me.

  “I got the news today from the police.”

  “What news?” I managed to say.

  “News I’m sure you were expecting. News everyone but me seemed to see coming long before they had proof.” She swallowed back her tears before going on. “Sara stole the money. She was arrested this afternoon.”

  We were quiet for a long time as I absorbed what she’d said. While it felt good for the truth to finally be out in the open, it clearly didn’t solve everything. Amelia had still betrayed me. She’d turned her back on me in the name of profits and dollars. Yes, she thought I’d stolen from her, but with no proof beyond coincidence, it didn’t speak well for her.

  She made herself look me in the eye, and I could tell that it was a struggle for her to look at me at all. “I’m sorry, Chloé. I don’t expect you to forgive me. What I did was…unforgiveable. Really. It was.”

  She seemed to be attempting to convince herself, as if preparing herself for whatever blow would fall next. She looked so lost, so broken, my heart constricted in pity. I squeezed her hand.

  “Do you know why I’m here?” I asked her.

  She shook her head.

  “I came here for you, Amelia. Emma called me and I came.”

  She looked confused, and I held up a hand to stop her from speaking.

  “I-I convinced myself that you were dead.” I couldn’t help sobbing on this last word. Tears came spilling down my cheeks again. “When Emma told me that you were fine, that you were going to be okay, I couldn’t handle it. I’ve never been happier, more relieved.”

  Her eyes were wide. “So earlier, when I heard you talking to the doctor, when you said you were here for your friend?”

  “I came here for you, Amelia.”

  She was crying again, too, but she seemed unaware of her tears. “Do you think it could be true? Could we be friends now?”

  I hesitated and then nodded. I wasn’t sure if it was possible, but I cared enough for her to try.

  My response brought a smile to her face for the first time since I’d seen her. The smile was uncertain, weak even, as if she hadn’t smiled in a long time, but it was there nonetheless. I smiled back, and just when I opened my mouth to say something more, the curtain was drawn back and the doctor came in. She froze when she saw us, and both of us jumped with startled guilt.
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br />   The doctor frowned. “Miss Winters, you should be in bed. You don’t even have your cast yet, and you’ve had a head injury.”

  Amelia saluted her and got to her feet. She looked back down at me. “When will I see you again?”

  “I’ll wait in the lobby with Emma. We’ll take you home.”

  Her lip started wobbling again, and my own eyes welled up with tears in response. Finally, she nodded and turned, making her way around the doctor, who watched her with clear annoyance. Amelia threw me a quick wink before disappearing, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  * * *

  I was released a while later, and when I entered the lobby, Emma and Jonathan, both on their phones, immediately hung up and came over to me. Emma gave me a hard hug, and Jonathan looked relieved.

  He held up his phone. “I was just talking to Kate. She knows the whole story now. I just convinced her not to come. I told her you were okay and needed to be alone.”

  I squeezed his hand. “Thanks, Jonathan. I appreciate it.” I grinned. “I’m so sorry about all of this. Welcome to New Orleans. What a shit show.”

  He laughed. “It’s no problem, really. I can always use a little excitement in my life. Who knew I’d end up in the hospital before the bachelor party?”

  “You should go,” I said. He tried to protest and I held up a hand. “No, really. Go back to my place. You have the keys now. I’m going to stay here and wait.”

  He looked relieved, but he was polite enough to ask, “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Please go. I probably won’t be back tonight.”

  He nodded, his eyes suddenly grave. He came close and gave me a quick hug. After this disaster, it didn’t seem awkward at all.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll go. But if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call. I can come get you if you need it.”

  He started walking away and I called out to him. “Hey, Jonathan?”

  He turned. “Yes?”

  “You might wanna take my car for a little spin while I’m gone. It could get lonely without me.”

  He laughed and almost dashed out the door in excitement.

  I turned back to Emma, who was grinning at me. “Thanks for waiting with me, Chloé. I really appreciate it.”

  I hesitated. “I can’t leave her here, Emma. I just can’t.” I told her about meeting Amelia in the back room and what we’d talked about.

  She nodded. I saw a hint of elation in her eyes before she looked away. The two of us made our way over to some chairs farthest from the screaming, bloody mob as we could get.

  When we sat down, Emma explained why the rest of her family wasn’t here. Her mother was on a charity mission in Mississippi, and her father, Bobby, Dean, Ingrid, and the kids were all on a spring-break trip together in Orlando. She’d also called Michael, her only other close relative in town, but she still hadn’t gotten in touch with him. She’d been left to handle this whole thing on her own, and I could tell it was weighing on her badly. She looked almost as bad as the other people in the emergency room—pale and haunted.

  It was a very long wait. We saw the gamut of sick and injured people as we sat there, each of us throwing the other horrified or amused glances as the cases dictated. I realized as we waited that I hadn’t been in an emergency room in a long time. I’d broken my collarbone as a teenager while roller skating, but I didn’t remember much of that experience. The only other time I’d been in an emergency room, I was waiting to hear news about my parents after their car accident. The thought made me shudder, and I clutched Emma’s arm. I knew the news wouldn’t be like that time—my parents had died, almost immediately—but being here didn’t help me feel much better. Hospitals meant death, pain, and heartache, rarely joy.

  Several hours later, a doctor came out to tell us that Amelia was recovering nicely, and that, after he’d seen the X-rays of her skull, he’d decided to release her instead of giving her a room overnight. Her concussion was mild, and the other injuries had now been treated. She would be fine if she slept with her head elevated for a few nights.

  The time between when he told us this news and when she was finally wheeled out of the back was a long one, though. When I saw her, my nerves were so frazzled and frayed from waiting and seeing and hearing the sights and sounds of the chaos around us, I could barely stand it. Again, I hardly recognized her. She looked small, reduced somehow. The chair seemed to dwarf her body. She still wore a hospital gown, her clothes having been cut off her, and I realized then that one of us should have gone to get her something to wear while we waited. We hadn’t thought of it.

  She looked surprised to see me, and I couldn’t tell if her surprise was pleasurable or not. I’d told her I would wait, but she clearly hadn’t expected me to keep my word. A staff member wheeled her all the way to Emma’s SUV, and Emma and I trailed after them the entire time, all of us silent. When we finally reached the car, Emma helped her up and into the backseat before giving me the keys. My hands were shaking, but I could see that Emma was in bad shape herself. I drove us back to Amelia’s place as quickly and as safely as I could, Emma in the backseat with Amelia.

  Amelia was capable of walking to the door of her house, and the two of us followed her in. Beyond greetings, none of us had spoken a single word since we’d been reunited, and when we all sat down in the living room together, that silence expanded into something incredibly awkward and uncomfortable. I sat in an armchair, and Emma and Amelia were on the love seat together, clasping hands. Amelia wouldn’t meet our eyes, and Emma was staring at her with concern. I looked back and forth between the two of them for a long time, wondering what I should say or do. I couldn’t tell if they wanted me to be here, but I also didn’t want to go home. Tonight wasn’t the night to get into any of the shit that had come before this, but I couldn’t make myself leave. Seeing Amelia again—just seeing her—fulfilled a part of me that had been empty and hollow for the last month. I couldn’t get enough of her. I knew I was basically staring, but I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to look and look and look.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Amelia finally sighed—the first sound I’d heard her make since the hospital. She looked up at me, very quickly, her eyes darting away, and then at Emma. “I’m really tired. I’d like to go to bed now.”

  “Of course!” Emma said, lurching to her feet. “Let me help you.”

  Stupidly, I followed them upstairs to the hallway outside of Amelia’s bedroom. Emma helped Amelia sit down on the bed and started rooting around in her wardrobe. I stood in the doorway, looking in at them, still struck dumb. I still couldn’t tear my eyes away from Amelia’s face. It was obvious she was looking at anything but me. I didn’t know how to take this, whether she didn’t want to see me or was afraid to for some reason, but her evasion didn’t exactly bother me. She knew I was here whether she looked at me or not.

  I turned my eyes away when Emma handed her some pj’s, and then I walked down the hall to one of the guest rooms. The room was well appointed, with gorgeous antique furniture and beautiful modern art. The dresser held several new-looking sets of pajamas, and I poked around until I found an appropriate size. I changed quickly and then stood there, staring into space. I wasn’t sure what I was doing here. Had Amelia asked me, I would have left immediately, but as she hadn’t, I wanted to stay here until I knew she was all right.

  Emma came into my room a few minutes later. I was sitting on the edge of my bed as if waiting for her. She gave me a wan smile and then flopped down into the gorgeous Queen Anne chair in the corner of the room. She put a shaky hand over her eyes and then removed it.

  “Jesus. She’s a wreck.”

  I nodded.

  “She’s been making herself scarce for the last few weeks, so I hadn’t seen her up close in a while. She’s lost a ton of weight.”

  We were quiet, absorbing the implications of this change. Finally, she met my eyes and then sat forward, resting her weight on her elbows. “What’s the plan, Chloé?”

 
I shook my head. “I don’t know, Emma. I really don’t.”

  She stared at me for a long time, as if testing my words. After a while, she nodded. “Okay. But you came to the hospital and you’re here—that’s a good sign. That means you still care for her.”

  “Of course I still care for her, Emma. I never stopped. But the things that have happened between us—all of it—she and I can’t just sweep them under the rug. I don’t know how we can get past this.”

  She got to her feet and came closer to me, resting a hand on my shoulder. “You might not be able to, Chloé, but I think both of you need some closure. You look like hell yourself. Make some peace with her, at least.”

  “I will. I want to.”

  She nodded. “Okay. I guess that’s all I can ask.” She paused, and I saw the weariness she’d been holding at bay seep into her face. She yawned. “I need some sleep. Wake me if you hear anything from her room, okay? I’ll be in the other guest room next door.”

  She left, and I turned off the light and flopped onto the bed, too tired to crawl under the blankets. I was asleep in moments.

  * * *

  When she came to my room, it was still dark. My eyes snapped open as if in alarm, and I sat up straight on the bed, instantly and fully awake. Despite the darkness, I could see her silhouette in the doorway. She’d stopped at my abrupt movement, and the two of us remained immobile for a long while, staring at each other. Finally, I scooted up on the bed and flipped the bedcover open. I then patted the empty spot next to me.