Free The Pieces We Keep by Kristina McMorris Page B

right here.”
    He raised his head and his gaze flitted around the room—to the lamp, his pillow, his comforter, all strewn across the floor. What happened? he asked without words.
    Because she had no real answer, she simply held him. Her arms trembled, more from anxiety than exertion.
    When he agreed to let her, she picked him up with a know-how for handling scared, wounded creatures. She carried him to the car, a blanket over his body, and drove to the closest ER.
     
    They didn’t return until three in the morning.
    Once they settled in, Audra’s dreams, like Jack’s, were so vivid they were hard to discern from reality. She was prepping for surgery, scrubbing her hands and donning latex gloves. A little girl appeared in the corner. Hair covering her face, she wept into her knees. Audra asked what was wrong. The girl choked out, “You said my dog, Max, would go to heaven. And you lied.” Audra glanced around the empty room, her technician nowhere to be seen. The clinic ached with quiet. “But how do you know he’s not there?” Audra gently challenged the child, who then stopped her crying and lifted her head. Her skin shone pale, thin as a sheet of tissue, but her voice turned hard as stone. “Because I’m dead,” she said, “and he’s not here.”
     
    Audra wiped her hairline, dampened from the dream. She rolled over on her bed and discovered Jack asleep—she’d laid him there after the hospital. Daylight filtered in around the closed white blinds, gracing Jack’s face with a peaceful glow, spotlighting the half cast on his arm.
    Careful not to wake him, she edged out of the room.
    At the kitchen sink, she filled a glass with water. She retrieved her vitamins from the cupboard, and noticed an old container of fish food partially hidden on a shelf. Between Devon’s allergies and her full-time job, a dog or cat had never made sense for their family—ironic, considering her profession. They’d once treated their son to a pair of goldfish. When the pets died, Jack grieved for days.
    Audra tossed the fish flakes into the trash. Another lesson learned.
    She downed the cool water, soothing her roughened throat. Sounds of a televised sports game reverberated from the tenant above. Audra’s head felt full of helium, light enough to fly away. When was the last time she had eaten a meal?
    A knock on the front door startled her. She hoped it hadn’t wakened Jack.
    She investigated through the peephole. Meredith stood beside Robert, who wore a Trailblazers cap, both of them in coats. It was Saturday morning. Why would they—
    The cemetery. The flags.
    Damn.
    Audra scrambled to unlock the door before they could ring the bell.
    “Hi,” she said, letting them in.
    “Good morning . . .” Robert’s inflection implied more of a question.
    Meredith cocked her head, as though rethinking her greeting. Her eyes flickered over Audra.
    From a glance downward, Audra recalled her appearance. Between the frazzled hair and wine-doused shirt, she must have been a beauty. “It was a long night. I fell asleep with a glass in my hand.” She released a quick laugh at herself.
    “Ah,” Meredith replied, and smiled.
    “So,” Robert said. “Is Jack ready for us?”
    Audra pictured her son curled up cozily in her bed. She couldn’t imagine disturbing his serenity after the night they had endured.
    “Actually,” Audra said, “I don’t think today’s a good day for the cemetery visit, after all.”
    Robert and Meredith exchanged surprised looks.
    “He’s actually still asleep. He was having—”
    “Grandma?” Jack emerged from the bedroom, rubbing his eyes.
    “Gracious. What happened?” Meredith rushed over to him and knelt down. She examined his cast as though it were a futuristic contraption. “What did you do here?”
    Jack shrugged, kept his gaze low. He couldn’t remember.
    “It happened during a bad dream,” Audra told them. “He accidentally hit the nightstand with his arm.”
    “Is it broken?”