Read As You Were for Free Online Page B

reminiscent of recent heroine-abuse ads. The young woman tried to make conversation, but Brittany didn’t feel particularly talkative. Trina seemed not to notice, one hand clenching a newly lit clove cigarette, periodically thumping the ash out the cracked
    window. She launched into a waterfall of information about all aspects of life at the women’s shelter, crediting them for her newfound purpose in life. They had helped her find the job she had after she’d escaped an abusive husband. As she drove with her left leg bent, foot in the seat, Brittany hoped, with a generous amount of anxiety, that the girl’s reflexes were quick enough to get her right foot off the accelerator and onto the brake, should the need arise.
    Trina’s words faded back into Brittany’s awareness.
    “...not that everyone down there isn’t nice, it’s just that, well, they all have their little problems or else they wouldn’t be there, ya know?”
    The door to the Shelter’s community room opened, and Brittany placed the paper down on her lap, anticipating the appearance of her visitor.
    A young man in his early thirties, wearing round spectacles, strode up to her. “Hi,” he said simply.
    “I’m sorry—” she began.
    “I know.” He held up his hand. “The hospital told me about your amnesia. My name is Max. I’m the one who brought you in after the accident.”
    Her face softened. “Oh, Max... I’m... what can I say? You saved my life. A thank-you seems a little inadequate.”
    “Good enough for me.” He dragged a chair back as if to sit, but didn’t. “Are they treating you okay?”
    “They’re great. I don’t think I’m an easy border, though.” She guessed by his demeanor and the glasses that he wasn’t a Casanova. He wore a thick MIT sweatshirt, khaki pants and old dirty sneakers.
    He ran his fingers through the shock of brown hair at his forehead, and flashed a charismatic smile. “I guess that’s understandable.” Then adding a bit sadly, “I’m sorry you don’t know where home is—”
    She watched him sit down, cross his ankle over his knee and struggle with some discomfort that seemed to be about a deficit in social interaction. “How did you happen to find me after the accident?”
    He snapped his head up, seemingly pleased for some prompting. “Oh, I was, um—I saw the accident happen... I was coming around the curve after supper with my mom, and I was behind you about the time your car went—” he stopped himself. “I’m sorry. That was very insensitive of me.”
    She shrugged. “It’s okay. I haven’t been able to remember the accident, either. Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise.”
    “Maybe.” He pushed out of the chair, plunging his hands into the front pockets of his slacks, and strode to the window. “Where will you go when you leave here?”
    “That’s a good question.” Brittany rolled the tabloid she was holding into a tube and bounced it on her leg, noticing the way he continually jingled the change in his pocket. “I don’t know if I have an answer to it yet. I’ll stay here until I figure it out.”
    “Well, hey, it seems...” He looked around. “like a nice enough place to be...” An awkward silence ensued, and he jingled more change, his eyes wandering to the windows. “I’m sorry. I’m... I’m not a big people-person. I’m a bit of a nerd, I’m afraid.” He punctuated this information by pushing his glasses up higher on his nose.
    Brittany’s face relaxed into a half-grin. “That’s all right.”
    “You’re a strong young woman.” He moved back to the chair, but again, did not sit. The smile reappeared briefly. He grasped the back of the chair with both hands, regarding her timidly.
    “Thank you.”
    “So. Will you leave a forwarding address...when you—when you know where you’re going, so I can at least send flowers?” He shoved his hands in his back pockets, then, and studied his dirty sneakers.
    “You don’t have to send flowers, Max. You