IMMOLATION: CHAPTER 43

Tom's eyes watered from the heat and the air above the ground wavered. He wanted to turn back around and run back out the way he'd come, but he'd made up his mind. While still in the hospital he'd heard how the world was changing, and it frightened him. He'd guessed at Joan's deteriorating state when no one would give him a straight answer to his questions about her. And he'd made up his mind then, between skin grafts and therapy sessions, what he was going to do.

When Tom told his nurse about his idea, she thought he was joking. His nurse didn't understand.

Joan sat curled on the floor of her enclosure, resting on the balls of her feet, her arms wrapped around her legs, her chin resting on her upturned knees. Her eyes, overlarge, it seemed, stared hungrily at Tom as he approached.

“It is you,” Joan said in a soft whisper.

“Yes,” Tom replied, forcing himself to keep walking closer, “It is me.”

Joan didn't make sign of moving from her spot while Tom walked, and before Tom knew it, he was sitting down beside Joan. For a while they both sat silent, each rocking back and forth on the balls of their feet. Tom felt the gaze of Mike, Melanie, and the guard all boring into the back of his head and he did his best not to think about them. After what felt like hours, but what was probably closer to a couple minutes, Tom rested an arm around Joan's shoulder. He didn't know what else to do, what to say, all the fine words he'd crafted in the speech he'd meant to give seemed to have evaporated away.

As soon as Tom's arm was around Joan, she collapsed into his chest, crying, pawing at his shirt as though she could hold him forever if only she could get a firm enough grip.

So unexpected was Joan's breakdown that Tom nearly fell over and had to steady himself with his free hand. Even still, Tom fell back until he was sitting flat on the ground, Joan moistening a patch of Tom's shirt with her tears.

He didn't know what else to do, so he patted Joan on the back and stroked her face, wiping away her tears and running his fingers through her hair. He ached to be able to feel the strands of her hair between his fingers, thinking back to the times before he'd been burned when he'd imagined doing this very thing, though without the burns and the enclosure.

“I'm sorry,” Tom heard himself say much to his own surprise. “You are such a beautiful person, Joan Darcy,” Tom went on and Joan's sobbing slowed and she seemed to calm down a bit, “You don't deserve this, and I wish I could take you away from here to a place where you could be free.”

Joan's fingers loosened on his shirt and Joan sat back up. Her eyes were red and puffy but other than that she looked composed.

“I got lost in here for a while,” Joan said, her breathing was still a little ragged and she hiccuped periodically. She rested her head back down on Tom's shoulder, though this time there were no tears. “Thank you for coming.”

Tom continued stroking her hair. “I've got to go soon,” Tom said, knowing it would be better to get that out of the way as quickly as possible, “My parents live out west and they'll be helping to take care of me while I finish healing.”

“That'll be good,” Joan said, a definite pain in her voice that wasn't there before.

“But I was wondering if I could ask something of you?” Tom said.

“Of course,” Joan said.

“I meant to ask you this question before,” Tom said, his body shaking from his nervousness, “But things got in the way of it.”

“I burned you,” Joan said.

“Yes,” Tom confirmed, “I was meaning to ask you this question when you ran out of the restaurant, and it scared me so badly that I would lose my nerve, I ran after you. Even though I knew I shouldn't.”

Tom fell silent, imagining in his mind the texture of Joan's skin, the wetness of her tears. He stayed in his imagination until Joan prodded him with her elbow to get his attention.

“You were going to ask me something?” She prompted him.

“It just seems so silly now,” Tom said quickly, “But I didn't want to lose this opportunity to ask if you'd go out with me?”

They both stared at one another for a moment, and then both burst out laughing. They weren't laughing at Tom, but at the situation. The weight of the events from the past several months broke over Tom's question and they were able to let it all go.

“Yes,” Joan snickered, “I would love to go out with you.”

“It'll have to be a long distance relationship,” Tom said.

“Yeah, and that'll stink,” Joan shrugged, “You'll have to promise to write to me every day.”

“Of course,” Tom said, “And I expect nothing less from you.”

“It's a deal,” Joan said and held out her hand.

Tom shook it briefly before raising it to his lips and kissing it.

“Okay you two lovebirds,” Mike's voice said over the intercom. He sounded as shocked and surprised as Tom felt. “We've got to get going if Tom's going to catch his flight.”

“I'll write you as soon as I arrive,” Tom said and he got to his feet.

“Hang on,” Joan said, taking hold of Tom's shirt to prevent him from walking away just yet.

Tom looked back to her, confused and a little fear rising in him.

“You can't leave without giving me a kiss goodbye.”

Tom hesitated for a moment and then leaned back in towards Joan. She held up her index finger to pause Tom.

“Could you take off your mask first?” She asked.

It was then that it struck Tom that she hadn't seen his face yet. When she came to visit him in the hospital he was still bandaged up.

“I look a bit different now,” Tom said, hoping to prepare Joan for what she was about to see.

He reached up and pulled apart the velcro at the back of his head. He caught himself from telling Joan to not freak out when she saw his face, a phrase he felt inappropriate considering what happened every time Joan freaked out. The mask came off his face.

“Oh,” was all Joan said. She reached over and touched his face. “Does it still hurt?” She asked.

“I don't feel anything,” Tom said and then hastily added when he saw the sadness in Joan's face, “It'll come back over time.”

He wasn't sure if Joan believed him as there was no noticeable change in her expression.

“And your hair,” Joan continued, running her hand over his bad scalp.

“I'm looking into wigs,” Tom said with a smile.

Joan snorted a laugh but was cut short in her response by the intercom.

“We really do need to be going,” Mike said.

Joan's hand slipped down to the back of Tom's head, her other hand grabbing him around the waist and she pulled Tom into a long, passionate kiss. At first he was shocked by it, but he quickly relaxed and for a moment they were the only two people in the world. At last Joan broke away from their embrace.

“Okay you,” She said, “Don't forget to write.”

“Yeah,” Tom said, breathless, “You too.

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Is it too cheesy, Tom asking Joan to go out with him? I'm hoping  it's more sweet and cute, if a little endearing...but I worry how much 'cheese' has made it into this chapter.