Read Online The Memory Jar by Elissa Janine Hoole - Free Book Online

watched their eyes shining in the dark when Scott pulls into the lane in his truck and turns the headlights toward the far woods.
    â€œThe first ones will walk through here before it’s light enough to shoot,” he said. “A doe with her two fawns, and I wouldn’t shoot them anyway. I’ll watch them walk beneath me. I’ll see their steamy breath.”
    He smiled, then, and shoved the entire pastry into his gaping mouth.

Now
    Joey takes my hand when I’m finally ready to go up in the elevator. I don’t know if he’s still angry or what, but if it’s possible to hold someone’s hand defiantly, he does it. We ride to the fifth floor with his fingers gripping mine, and then the elevator swoops to a stop and he drops my hand, his face setting like sullen cement.
    I breathe through the queasy moment and step over the threshold, turning right and pushing my way through the double doors. No cell phones, no noise. No idea what my boyfriend will be like when he wakes up, or what the hell his brother is thinking, holding my hand like that. It’s grief, that’s all. I shake my head.
    The ring. The reporter. I’ve got to get in there, have to get into Scott’s room without anyone else, but how do I get rid of his mom, of Understanding Emily? This hospital smells, and I feel like Joey and I completely reek of cigarettes, like our breath is dangerous, the air trapped in the folds of our coats. It is, actually. It’s called something like third-degree smoke, and it can make people sick, babies and little kids. Once again I feel vulnerable, protective, and again I push that feeling aside.
    â€œI’ve gotta … ” Joey nods in the direction of the waiting room, and then he’s gone. I make a beeline for Scott’s room, walking silent as a nurse in my sneakers, and for three quarters of the way into the room I think I’m in luck, but then—
    â€œOh,” says Emily, stepping out from behind Scott’s IV. “I didn’t hear you.” She sits back down on the guest chair, the more comfortable one by his side. She holds a magazine in her lap with one hand. “The doctor gave him pinpricks in his feet,” she continues, her kind eyes on my face, “and he reacted, sort of. A little movement, a little change in his facial expression.”
    I nod, but my face must be too blank because she rushes to explain. “He’s making good progress up the Glasgow scale, Taylor. His scores are climbing in every category. This is a really good sign.” She smiles a different kind of smile than usual, a smile that jumps rather than tiptoes. I smile too. A really good sign.
    â€œJoey and I went to lunch—” The end of that sentence is complicated.
    â€œJoey’s not easy in the best of times,” Emily says. “He doesn’t really blame you, Taylor. None of us do. But it’s hard when there are so many unanswered questions.” She gets up from the chair and ushers me into it, looking deep into my eyes with that new hopeful spark. “The police came to give Mom and Dad an overview of their investigation.” Something flickers across her face. “The accident investigation.”
    We’re both quiet, looking at Scott. I can’t easily connect this swollen, bruised, and sleeping face to the Scott in my memory, and I can’t really remember what it felt like to love him. I mean, I care about him, I’m not a complete horror of a person, you know. I feel kindness for him and sorrow over his pain and injuries and hope for him to recover, but I don’t really feel what it means to desire him, to yearn for forever together with a kid tethered between us and that ring around my finger.
    I try not to look too shifty as I peer at the floor behind Scott’s bed. I can’t see anything. I twist in my chair a bit to get a better view.
    â€œAre you all right?”
    My chance. Her eyes on mine are