I Watched You Drive By

Sam

"You can't ask people that question," Scarlett said. Her voice sounded strangled. I jumped off the floor, watching her, waiting for tears. Or something. She stood up, looking anywhere but at me. Finally her gaze returns to her favorite spot: the ground. Her voice becomes a whisper, but I still hear it. "You can't just...."

"I'm sorry," I said, still watching for a reaction. "I didn't...it wasn't my intention to say that out loud." Only it was. I wanted to know why she was crying in her dreams and why she was apologizing to her mother. Where her mother was. Why she was out in the rain all by herself. Everything. Mysteries were really annoying to me sometimes, and I sure as hell didn't like the mysteries that seemed to surround Scarlett. I just met her yesterday. On a bridge.

We stand like that for a few minutes: Scarlett staring hard at the floor, maybe waiting for it to open and pull her in. Me waiting for Scarlett to look up. Both of us quiet.

After two minutes of standing around, I plop down on the couch and pick up the roll of wrapping bandages. "Scar, can you please sit down? I'll finish wrapping up and then I'll give you breakfast. What do you say?"

Scarlett lifts her head and stares at me, or, well, she stares in my direction. She turns her body around. "Why do you keep on calling me 'Scar'?"

I blink. "Because your name is Scarlett." Or, at least I hope that was her name. She could have easily given me a fake name yesterday. "That is your name, right? Scarlett. Scarlett Parker?"

Scarlett flinches every time I say her name, and before I knew it, she was sitting down on the couch next to me. She scooted back and returned her gaze to the coffee table in front of us. "Yes. My name is Layla--Scarlett. Scarlett Parker."

Layla? I think about asking her who Layla is, but then I see the expression on her face and I stop myself. It was only a second, but I saw it. The grimace, her hands clutching, and her body tensing. I saw it, but I ignored it and sat back down on the floor and returned to treating her hurt leg and the cut on her hand.

********************

After I'm done nursing her, I escort Scarlett back into the kitchen and sit her down at the breakfast table. She doesn't fight it as much as I thought she would. I grab a seat opposite and try for an upbeat voice. "You're gonna love it. I tried very hard with my cooking skills to make you this." I pulled the top off a plate near her. "I didn't know what you'd like so... I made pancakes, french toast, and waffles." I opened the other plates and gestured to them. "...and other things."

Scarlett's eyes widen at the food, and I smile. "Can I go use the bathroom first?"