The scar looked like red wax dripping straight down from Sophie's hairline, narrowly missing her eye. She turned towards Brian, and he cringed.
"Long time no see," she said.
He found it difficult to make eye contact.
"Yeah, I uh, I'm glad to see you're up and around."
"Are you kidding? I've been out of the hospital for a month already."
He was silent. She bit her lip, knowing she'd meant that to sound less forceful.
"Look, I don't want you to worry about this," she gestured towards the side of her face, "okay? I'm over it. You don't have to beat yourself up."
Brian made a face like he was trying to force something that wouldn't come. He turned away and expelled the breath he'd been holding in, then tried again with his right hand over his heart. "I think it would be better if..." he trailed off, losing the nerve to admit what she already knew.
Sophie waited, and breathed deeply. She smiled politely. He's such a goddamned actor, she thought. He looked down.
"I can't help blaming myself," Brian said to his feet.
"That's something you'll have to get over."
When he looked up, she was waiting for him. Her gaze locked on to his. She knew exactly how pretty she was, or used to be, and the only penance she asked was that he would carry on like nothing had changed.
"Every time I see it," he began, and looked away. "I hear the squealing tires, the breaking glass..."
"That's a fucking Pearl Jam lyric, Brian." Her voice cracked. She was tempted to hit him. She attempted to calm herself, to keep a grip on the situation. If they shouted it out, she knew he wouldn't call her again. He'd consider it over and try to forget. She had already looked in the mirror and swept her hair over her face in a dozen variations. It didn't work.
He looked at her with uncertainty. No words came. He felt angry that his life hadn't prepared him for this.
"Want to see a movie?"
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