Coffee Sonata by Greg Herren Page B

being hurt upset her deeply, and she had to chew for a long time before she could swallow.
    “So, did the police pick up the guy?” Vivian asked.
    “Yes, since Don had taken pictures and handed his compact flash card over to the police as evidence. The next school board meeting should be even more interesting than the last, Manon, considering it was Principal Rex who—”
    “Archibald Rex?” Manon was stunned. “I knew I should have gone to that emergency meeting. I could have stopped him. What a coward—”
    “An incompetent coward, it turns out.” Eryn grimaced. “Believe me, there was quite an uproar. At least two hundred parents and the entire faculty were at the high school. When I got to the hospital I talked to one of the nurses, whose sister teaches English at the school. She knew all about it, so I called the story in from there. It’ll be in tomorrow’s paper.”
    “I can’t believe you managed to do all that while injured,” Manon said. She couldn’t fathom anybody being unaffected by such an ordeal.
    Eryn shrugged as well as she could in a sling. “It’s my job. I wasn’t about to miss filing a great story.”
    When Manon murmured, “I’m impressed,” Eryn flushed with pride. Then she glanced at Vivian.
    “Sorry I missed your rehearsal. I was looking forward to it.”
    “I was going to run through the aria once more before I head home,” Vivian said. “If you’re up to it, Eryn, you can be our audience.”
    “Sounds like a plan to me.” As Eryn rose she swayed toward Manon. “Damn. I feel almost drunk.”
    “Did they give you something for pain?” Manon circled her arm around Eryn’s waist again.
    “Percodan. I guess I’m pretty stoned.”
    “They let you go home with a head injury and a drug like that in your system? Come on. Let’s get you on the couch.” Manon guided Eryn to the living room, feeling more protective than she could ever remember when she realized Eryn was shaking. Her scent, fruity, with a tinge of vanilla, was mixed with antiseptics. “There. Sit down and put your feet up.” When she noticed the vulnerability in Eryn’s eyes, now dazed and dulled by the medication, she could hardly breathe. She tucked a blanket around Eryn and tried to cover her own turmoil with a smile. “Comfortable?”
    “Yes. Go play for Vivian.”
    With an effort, Manon tore her eyes away from Eryn and went to the baby grand. She stared blindly at the music for a second, then gathered her control and hit the first chord. “All right, Vivian. From the top?”

    *

    The music filled the room and, with relief, Eryn rested her injured head against the velvet cushions; the plush couch hugged her body, soothed it. Her shoulder ached also, a dull throbbing sensation, mellowed by the painkillers. The doctor had insisted she fill a prescription for more before she left the hospital, so Don took care of that detail while she signed her statement for the police. She had spoken to her boss before they left the ER, and surprisingly, Harold grumbled something about her resting up and Don making sure the Chronicle had the photos of the events ready to print ASAP.
    As Vivian’s amazing voice soared, Eryn felt tears escaping. She closed her eyes and wiped them away with her sleeve, welcoming the warmth of the music and the comfort of Manon’s care. Despite her casual attitude earlier, it was good to be here, safe.
    When the music stopped, she opened her eyes drowsily and tried to smile. “If my arm wasn’t in a sling and I wasn’t so out of it, I’d join you guys with my guitar.”
    Vivian regarded her with interest. “You play the guitar?”
    “Electric guitar. I used to be in a band in college.” Eryn’s tongue felt swollen. “Schorry, ladies.” She could hear herself slur. “I’m so tired.”
    Worriedly, Manon took Eryn’s hand. “You’re not feeling strange, are you? Tell me what day it is.”
    “Friday. October seventh.” Eryn winked. “I’m tired. Not