The next day Eddie had been on edge all day, waiting for visiting hours to begin. He had been unable to concentrate on his work, with one eye on his watch. All he could think about was Rachel, and that kiss. In the week since she had woken up, he had touched her many times, held her hand, brushed hair from her face, hugged her, kissed her forehead, held her up, comforted her. Before the fire, she had kept a certain distance, they had never touched. Now though, she seemed to welcome his affection, as much as he enjoyed giving it. She seemed relaxed in his arms, in a way he knew she would not have tolerated before. But most telling . . . that kiss. The very briefest of kisses. He might barely have noticed it if he had not wanted it so much. It was almost over before it began. For a moment he doubted she had really meant to do it, but the way she smiled at him afterwards told him all he needed to know. She wanted this too.
Finally, he arrived on the ward, only to be pulled aside by a nurse the moment he arrived. He found himself irritated with this young woman who was keeping him away from Rachel's side. When he looked, he saw the curtains drawn around Rachel's bed, and he began to panic. What was wrong? Had she gone downhill? Was she ill? Of course she was ill, but was she more ill than before?
"It's OK," the nurse reassured him. But he just needed to know what was going on. The nurse continued: "Rachel wanted to look at her scar today. We weren't sure she was ready, but she was adamant that she was. We couldn't persuade her to wait. I don't think she's easily persuaded when she has her mind set on something."
"That sounds like Rachel," Eddie replied, smiling. It sounded like the old Rachel was coming back.
The nurse nodded knowingly and continued: "She's a bit upset. She's worried about what you'll think."
"Well, there's a first time for everything," Eddie replied, rolling his eyes and laughing, "she's not usually bothered what I think!" He felt sure he could reassure her. He did not know what the scar looked like, but he was certain it would not, could not, change the way he felt about her.
Rachel was sitting crying, with a nurse holding her hand and trying to reassure her. He rested his hand on her shoulder, but she did not lean into him like he expected, like she did before. The nurse smiled encouragingly at him and quietly stepped away, allowing Eddie to take her place. "You don't have to be here," she said, with tears beginning to well up in her eyes.
"I'd like to stay, if you want me to," he replied.
She looked at him, surprised, and asked, "why?"
He reached his hand out to her and rested it on her cheek. He looked her in the eye and tried to find the right words, but could not. She began to scrabble at her hospital gown, opening it and revealing the scar on her chest. She just wanted this over with. "This is why you won't want to stay," she said, her tears overflowing and rolling down her face now.
It was only yesterday that she had kissed him. She felt guilty about that now. She knew she should not have let it happen before he actually knew what he was getting. She just got caught up in the moment and gave in to what she had wanted for so long, what she knew Eddie wanted too, or at least he thought he wanted, until now, until he knew about the scar. She knew that her scar was disgusting and would repulse him. It was a part of her now, which made her disgusting and repulsive too. It was only what she deserved, after her past, to be outwardly ugly too. The only good thing about it was that at least it was not on her face. Eddie would no longer want her back in his school, let alone in his life. She closed her eyes, and waited for the sound of his footsteps as he walked away from her.
Instead, she felt his hand come to rest on her bare shoulder, slowly moving downwards until his fingers brushed the edges of her scar. She felt his warm breath on her forehead, followed by his lips. She felt his hands, gently pulling her gown closed, and his arms wrapping around her. She just sat, leaning against him, not moving, until she felt herself falling to sleep again. Barely awake, she felt him lay her back against the pillows and tuck the blanket in around her shoulders. She heard him sit heavily into the chair beside her bed and take a deep sigh. She felt him lean forward and rest his head on the edge of her bed, his hair gently brushing against her face. The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was him quietly saying, "this doesn't change anything," and kissing her cheek. And she could tell from his voice that he meant it. He was not disgusted, and maybe he was right. Maybe she was not disgusting after all. Perhaps it was just a physical injury.
