Burning in a Memory Read Free Page A

with a careful smile as she opened the door. Adam actually looked taken aback to see her, but if he checked her out at all, he did it subtly.
                  Something drew her attention behind him and she spotted a black sedan, just in time to see it pulling away from the corner. Her driveway was empty, making it very clear that Adam had not driven here alone. She didn’t blame him for the safety precautions, but stashed the information in the back of her mind.
    “How are you doing? Did you see a doctor? Please tell me you’re doing better,” Adam asked.
    He shamelessly searched for the gash on her forehead, which had been red and raw the day earlier. She’d concealed it well with caked-on foundation and it appeared to be sufficient enough to satisfy his inquiry.
    “Yea, yea, doctors. I’m feeling all right. Come in, please.”
    His lips formed a thin line of disapproval but it disappeared when she waved him inside.  He followed her into the dining room before turn ing his attention to the home. She anxiously waited as he took a cursory look around. She’d spent hours cleaning the place and moving furniture in and out until it looked like a home again. It only lacked personal touches, photos, and a true sense of being lived in. She hoped he would overlook the latter. Nineteen year olds were never known for their decorating skills.
    “It’s nice,” he surmised lightly and it sounded like he’d given it as little thought as she hoped.
    “We can sit in the living room,” she said and gestured to the other room. Of all of the rooms, it smelled the least of bleach and more of fresh air from the open windows.
    “Do you have roommates?” he asked.
    “Just me,” she said.
    He made it into the living room and did another sweeping look. This time he made a face.
    “This is huge for just you. I wish I had these digs in college. Do you own it?”
    She laughed but her stomach did a somersault.
    “I rent. I thought later I’d find a roommate but I haven’t been trying that hard,” she said.
    He bought it apparently.
    “I don’t blame you. I hate sharing a house.”
    Once in the living room, he invited himself to sit down on the leather couch and stretch ed out. He seemed fairly relaxed with her, so she tried to follow suit. She circled to the fridge and fetched two cans of Coke.
    “Would you like something to drink?” she offered.
    “Please sit. I came to check on you, not for you to wait on me.”
    She waved him down before he could get up from his seat. Sliding the cold cans onto the counter, she grabbed the phone from its cradle. Hitting the button, she listened for the dial tone.
                  “Well, I gotta order the pizza anyway. Preference on type? Place?”
    “I like everything. Your choice,” he said.
    “Papa John’s it is.”
    She dialed from memory and pressed the phone to her ear. A medium pepperoni was always the go-to, but she honestly wasn’t even hungry. The cashier on the other end rattled off an estimated time and hung up. She replaced the phone in the cradle and readied herself for the inevitable.
    “So, let’s talk,” she regarded him. Crossing into the living room, she handed him a can before settling into a rocking chair. Adam finally perked up and slid to the end of his seat.
    “What do you want to know?” he asked cautiously in return.
    “It’s so weird that I don’t even know what to ask you. I spent the whole time doubting what I saw, but every time I convinced myself that what I saw was the result of heat stroke or a concussion, it didn’t add up. I know I wouldn’t have survived that rockslide if not for a miracle. Or magic.”
    “I was hoping you’d think it was just a concussion. That works on a lot of people,” he said.
    “I guess I’m not ‘a lot of people.’ I want you to know, though, that I didn’t tell anyone what I saw.”
    He met her eyes and nodded.
    “Thank you,” he quipped.
    She cracked open her soda and took a long