Fix by J. Mann (highly illogical behavior .TXT) 📕

Then I wrap up in both the gigantic towels, pick up my brace, and leave the bathroom.

Mary Fay is hovering in the hall. “You good?”

“Yes,” I say, shivering.

“Give me a shout if you need help getting dressed. I’m an expert at dressing others, remember.”

I only met Mary Fay’s mom once before she died—the MS had her in a wheelchair by then—but I knew she lived with Mary Fay at the end.

Nodding through chattering teeth, I shut my door.

Sitting down on my bed is probably not a good idea, and an even worse idea all wrapped up in warm towels, yet I can’t stop myself.

“Ten minutes, Eve,” Mary Fay calls.

I lie back and close my eyes.

Ohhhh… lying down brace-less is heaven, the soft towels against my skin, my bones meeting a giving mattress.

“You’re going to be in trouble,” he whispers.

Now I feel all that skin in another way, imagining what it would be like to be touched by him. I don’t dare open my eyes. Afraid he’ll be there… afraid he won’t.

The Real One

You were switched on.

It looked like you could

barely stop yourself from

burrowing your face into his neck and

wrapping yourself around him. I’d

never seen you like this.

He was totally feeling you.

Everything out of his mouth was

suggestive, and you treated

each innuendo like a serve that you

expertly volleyed back into his court.

You didn’t include me.

You couldn’t. You were

too busy drowning in the frothy joy

of his eyes, all over your eyes,

all over you.

When the four of us

walked into the dark theater,

you tried to steer him into the aisle first, to

position him on your right side. But he was

so gallant, gesturing with his arm,

“After you, m’lady,” and

who could resist that?

You couldn’t.

So you strode into that aisle,

swaggering to your seat.

Knowing he was staring hard at your ass

and knowing how good it looked.

Did I feel the chilly ache

of your vulnerability?

I did, Lid. I did.

But there they were.

Jayden and Nick.

Separating us like a

warm unfamiliar wall.

The movie started.

It was then that Jayden

must have decided to hold your hand—

a hand he’d never once considered

might not exist.

Forced from the Realm

“OKAY, EVE.”

She clicks on the light.

Although I can see the brightness through my closed lids, I don’t respond, hoping she will just go away. Hoping everyone will just go away.

“I let you sleep for hours. It is now six o’clock, and we are going to the store.”

I’m still in my towels. They’re cold and wet. And I suddenly feel very naked.

“I’ve also made an appointment with Dr. Sowah for tomorrow.”

My eyes flip open. “What? Why?”

I struggle to sit, but my head’s foggy from sleep and I totally fail. Being brace-less now feels unsafe, and I tighten the cold towel around me, trying not to look completely pathetic under Mary Fay’s watchful gaze.

After a few seconds, she folds her arms and leans back on her hip. “I don’t know,” she says, shaking her head. “You just don’t look good to me, honey.”

“I’m fine,” I say, finally sitting up, hoping that she doesn’t notice the wobble of my head.

“You were scheduled to go on Friday anyway, Eve, so what’s a few days?”

She turns around and starts opening drawers in my dresser.

“Okay, I’ll go tomorrow. Now, can I just sleep?”

“I didn’t ask you if you wanted to go. I told you I made an appointment,” she says, her nose buried in my dresser drawer.

“Won’t this mess up your work schedule or something?”

“Don’t you worry about my business, Eve,” she says, choosing clothes for me.

“I can do that,” I tell her, trying to keep the anger out of my voice.

She tosses sweats, a body sock, and a sweatshirt onto the bed, and then stands there—no crooked smile this time, she’s all eyes.

“Okay,” I tell her. “I’ll get dressed.”

“I’ll be waiting in the living room,” she says, walking out of my room. “With my car keys in my hand.” And then she shuts the door.

Sighing, I open the bedside drawer and take out my Roxy. I count them up because this is my ritual now—the number of Roxy has replaced the number of degrees of my curve, my brain forever recalculating the changing number against the days of my life.

I hate this part because counting tells me that I need to close the baggie without taking one.

In a swift motion, I pluck out a half, pop it into my mouth, and swallow it before I can think.

Now that the tiny mental fight is over, I’m glad I took it. The Roxy won. It always does.

Putting clean clothes on a clean body is like some dream I once had. But as I go to take off my towels… I remember him.

I don’t turn around. I don’t want him to know I’m thinking about him. Is he even in the telescope anymore?

As I remove the towel from my head, my cold, wet hair hits my shoulders and I quickly comb through it with my fingers… the Roxy tingles across my scalp. Outside the window are low, puffy dark clouds against a sliver of a moon. A tiny spit of icy rain taps at the window. It’s funny how spring rain can look colder than snow.

I check out the thick pair of sweats, the gray body sock, and the hoodie that Mary Fay chose. She forgot to bring me underwear. It would be too hard to get my feet through the holes anyway, especially now that my hands are so far away from them. She also forgot socks. Nancy brought me some sort of stick that’s supposed to help me put those on, but I have no idea where it is. Because I haven’t needed to put on socks. Because I don’t go out.

“Eve,” Mary Fay calls. “Creatures are evolving on this earth faster than you’re pulling on a sweatshirt.”

This is so ridiculous.

I take off my towel and practically rip my body sock trying to get my feet through as quickly as possible. I’ve never felt so naked in all my life.

He’s not a telescope anymore, he’s