CHRISTINA.


    When I open my eyes, I don’t quite understand where I am. But then I remember that I’m in a hospital. It’s just as painful to move, almost impossible. Some time ago, it seemed to me that Jack and Aela were standing here. And John, too, but I must have imagined it. It’s dark.


    “It must be night now,” I guess.


    I look around the room. I feel weak, I need to sleep some more. My hand involuntarily clenches, and I realize that I’m holding someone’s hand. Then I find the strength to lift my head.


    “Oh no! So I didn’t imagine it, they really came.”


    John is sleeping next to me on a chair, his head on the bed. And my hand is squeezing his hand. It happened by accident, most likely. I must have dreamed something, but what? I don’t want to disturb him. I feel so ashamed, I let everyone down again. I want to touch his hair and stroke his head. And breathe in that scent again that was in the old sweater I once stole from him.


    “I wonder if John was looking for it. But does it matter now? Why did you leave if when you come back you think about him again? You’re disgusting!” I tell myself.


    My hand squeezes a little tighter. I wish I hadn’t. John throws his head up.


    “Oh no!” he scolds himself and turns his head, wincing. It seems his neck has gone numb. At some point our gazes meet, and time stops. I’ve missed those brown eyes with their barely noticeable almond shape. Probably no one has noticed it before. But he doesn’t represent the same values to others as he does to me…


    “You’re a real fool!” he blurts out, and that moment of intimacy in our gazes is interrupted. He hasn’t changed a bit.


    “Be quiet for once,” I answer him quietly.


    “Or what?” he asks impudently.


    I try to catch him, but I can’t sit down, and he gets up, moves to a safe distance and continues to look at me carefully.


    “Hey, that’s not fair!” I protest.


    I’ve already gotten used to the semi-darkness. His eyes are laughing, and a devilish smile appears on his thin lips. I’m disarmed.


    “I never said it would be fair.”


    I smile helplessly.


    “Tell me, why can’t I get up? Is it because I’m too weak?”


    He suddenly becomes serious.


    “Don’t try. You need rest. In addition to a broken leg, you have a bruised spine. And maybe you can tell me who Glenn is?”


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    JOHN.


    Christina looks away.


    “It’s him, right?” she asks tiredly.


    It seems like this guy really got on her nerves.


    “Okay,” I back off, “you can tell me when you’re ready. But keep in mind that the police are looking for him and my ex girlfriend right now. So your words could be very helpful.”


    “I’ll give you a description of him, and if you find his sister, she can help, I think. We went to college. You’re probably tired. Go and rest. I can handle it. Just give me the phone, please.”


    I examine her carefully.


    “Okay, I’ll go. If you need anything, call the nurse. Jack and Eila will come to see you tomorrow.”


    Christina nods slightly. I go out and quietly close the door behind me. Now that she’s safe, I need to get some proper rest.


    ***


    Jack and Aela have left. Christina is still in the hospital, but I visit her regularly. She needs to get used to me. It seems she has become bolder in communication. And I like it.


    I need to finally unpack her suitcases. The Italians she stayed with have already sent her art supplies. All that remains is to wait, and I will prepare her work area. I go to the wardrobe, I have a couple of free shelves. Just enough for Christina. I open it. There are neatly folded skirts and dresses.


    “I’ve never rummaged through other people’s things. There’s a first time for everything. Who would have thought that you would ever do this?”


    A small cosmetic bag is also here. We’ll put it separately. Or better yet, I’ll leave it on the table in the kitchen. Now that the dresses are on hangers, it’s time to start on the second suitcase. When I open it, there are blouses and tops, and also trousers.


    “Has Chris lost weight or something? The size she wears is too small. She should eat well. I clearly have something to do in the near future. Oh, what do we have here?”


    There’s a plastic bag at the bottom of the suitcase, and something in it. Should I look at it or just put it on the shelf? The temptation is strong, but I still decide that it doesn’t concern me. However, when I put the bag down, it slips out of my hands and falls to the floor. I pick it up, but it’s slightly open, and something familiar in color is sticking out. I opened it completely.


    “What is this? My sweater? And I’ve been looking for it for so long. And why does she need it?”


    I think she should tell me herself. Perhaps I’ll take it for myself. After all, it is my clothes. I wonder if she wore it? Of course, most likely. This thought warms my soul. I hug the sweater to myself. I’m getting too sentimental.


    ***


    “Chris, clothes. I brought you some.”


    “Oh, where are we going next?”


    “Don’t ask questions. Just get dressed. I’ll help if you need it.”


    She blushes deeply.


    “No need. I’ll do it myself,” she mutters, “turn away.”


    “Oh, come on, what didn’t I see there?”


    She doesn’t answer and just looks at me expectantly. What a brat!


    “Okay, okay, already,” I reluctantly turned away.


    “Don’t peek!”


    “Well, actually, I wasn’t trying. I’m an honest person,” I tell her mockingly.


    Two minutes later I ask:


    “Are you done? It’s been taking a while.”


    “Almost,” she answers.


    “Hey, are you sure you don’t need help?”


    “No,” she says, “pass me the coat.”


    I turn around and start laughing.


    “What?!” She blushes again.


    “I don’t understand your shyness.” And, leaning towards her, I add:


    “And two years ago, you weren’t at all shy about moaning in my ear with your sweet voice. Maybe I should get you drunk one more time…”


    And then I get a slap. It was unexpected and... painful.


    “Shut your mouth!”


    Okay, I’ll deal with her at home. Now we need to move to a safe distance.


    “Actually, I wanted to help you put on your skirt, since you couldn’t do it yourself. But if you don’t want to, suffer on your own!” I say, offended.


    I watch her fail, her leg still in a cast.


    “Sorry,” she says, embarrassed, “it was an accident. Your words got me mad. My hand acted on its own... Please…”


    That’s better. I go over and help her up and get dressed. Crutches are her friends for the next month. Chris uses them awkwardly. I helped her down and into the car. This is the time to turn this page of our lives.