Back Where She Belongs - By Dawn Atkins Page 0,49

She likes things to look good. I’ll bring her out when she wakes up.”

“Good.”

“Take it easy on the face goop. Faye wasn’t much for makeup.”

“I promise.” She drove off, pleased when she glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Judith give a small wave.

Once in Faye’s room, Tara brightened the lights, set the flowers on the counter near the mirror and got the nineties playlist she’d put together going on the iPod with speakers.

Happy with how much more cheerful the room felt, she leaned in to kiss Faye’s forehead. “I’m thinking Stormy Skies eye shadow to go with your eyes. You agree?” She studied her sister’s face. “Blink once for no.”

Tara held her breath, hoping against hope for any sign of life. Nothing. “Stormy Skies it is.” Tara sighed. “Are you slipping away or fighting your way back, Faye?” she whispered.

Forcing herself to cheer up, she put the Sunset Crater photo into the silver frame, set it where Faye could see it, then misted Faye’s sheets and pillow with the peppermint and citrus spray the store clerk said would be energizing. After that, she plugged in the flatiron and set out the cosmetics and nail polish on Faye’s tray. “Makeover time,” she said, and got to work, singing along with MC Hammer’s “U Can’t Touch This.” Rita was right. Some of that nineties music was pretty bad.

When she finished with Faye’s face, Tara studied the effect. “Much better. You can’t even see the shadow of the bruises.” It was Wednesday, nine days since the accident, eight days since Tara had arrived, and the bruises had faded substantially.

Next she worked on Faye’s hair. “You won’t believe what happened last night,” she said, deciding to think out loud with her sister. “I had dinner at Dylan’s and we almost went to bed together.” She paused mid brushstroke to see if Faye had responded to that.

Nothing.

“I know. Bad idea. In the end, I was the one who stopped us. I knew it would be pointless...probably sad, really.” If it wasn’t life changing. She straightened a strand of Faye’s hair. “I need to start dating. I’ve been lonely, but I didn’t notice. That should fix it.”

She finished Faye’s hair, admiring the smoothness, the slight under-curl she’d achieved. “Perfect.” She stared at her sister’s closed eyes. She seemed so far away. “Come on, Faye,” she said. “Wake up. Live. You’ve got music and flowers and people who love you.” Her gaze snagged on the Sunset Crater picture. “Look at how happy you were, how in love. I’m sorry I didn’t see that at the time.”

Her sister didn’t respond.

“But you weren’t happy before the wreck, were you? You were worried. What was wrong? The questions are piling up and you’re the only one who can answer them.”

Fighting frustration, she placed Faye’s hand on the tray and shook the nail polish. “Neon orange,” she said. “Not your style, but it’s lively, right? And you need lively stuff.” She’d chosen candy-apple red lipstick for the same reason. She opened the polish, loaded the brush and reached down for Faye’s hand. Faye’s index finger twitched.

Tara gasped, dripping polish on Faye’s knuckle. Her heart leaped. “Faye? Did you do that on purpose? Do it again.” She stared at Faye’s hand. There. Another twitch. Wait. Maybe not. Maybe Tara had imagined that.

Someone entered the room. “We can hear that nasty music all the way from—”

“Rita! Her finger twitched! She’s waking up.”

Rita moved swiftly to Faye’s bedside. She hesitated, probably at the change in Faye’s appearance, then picked up Faye’s hand. Tara clicked off the music. “You coming back, sugar?” Rita asked softly. “Can you squeeze my hand for me?”

Nothing. Rita took her flashlight out and tested Faye’s pupils. No change.

Rita did the rest of the tests, then sighed. “Sorry, hon. Transient spasms. It happens.”

“So it’s nothing?” Tara’s heart sank. “It doesn’t mean she’s improving?”

Rita sat on the chair next to Tara, her eyes full of sympathy. “It’s nice, you fixing her face and hair. I’m gonna need sunglasses to tolerate that nail polish, though.”

Tara couldn’t even manage a smile.

“How you doing?” Rita asked.

“Okay, I guess.”

“It’s hard, this limbo you’re in. You gotta prepare yourself either way.”

“I wish I’d been there for her more...before.”

“We’re all just human beings doing what we can.”

“She was on antidepressants, Rita, and something for anxiety. I had no idea how bad off she was. I’m scared that if she was drinking that night, the alcohol mixed with the pills might have caused her to lose control of

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