“It seems to me you’ve got it nailed down pretty well already.”
I hesitate, not sure how to answer. I certainly don’t feel as though I have anything nailed down.
“You’ve already learned to walk with the prosthetic—and I did my research. That can take months and months to figure out—you’ve got your classes in order, know what you’re working towards. You’ve even got that fridge packed with pre-made meals, which are very tasty, actually, and—”
I’m close to telling Mark to screw off; my face is burning. I wave at him to stop. “Those meals are from a service. And you were angry with me only yesterday for not taking care of my leg properly. The only reason I’m caught up on classes is because I have a lot of free time without all the clubs I used to be part of.”
“I wouldn’t have managed as well as you have,” Mark says. “Not even close.”
My face burns.
“I’m stopping, now. No need to cuss me out,” Mark says casually. He stands up and picks his empty plate off the counter. He eyes my plate of half-eaten food. “You’re not finished yet, are you?”
It takes me a minute to get past my embarrassment. Thankfully, my brain cooperates and I manage not to tell Mark to piss off. “Not yet.”
Mark leans against the counter next to me instead of going back to his seat. “How do baths work?”
I eye him.
“Can I run you one?” he adds when I don’t answer. “It’ll help with the swelling. And it’ll help you relax…or maybe it won’t, since you don’t like seeing your leg.” He rubs the back of his neck, looking thoughtful. His gaze darts sideways to my face. “You take them in the dark, don’t you?”
I nod, mouth full of food.
“Can I run you one?”
I consider it, then shake my head. “I’ll take one later.” If I take a bath with Mark in the next room, I’ll have some issues.
“Alright,” Mark doesn’t question me. He’s being very nice, actually. He hasn’t brought up the fact that I told him to come on my stomach even once. I look away quickly, face catching fire again.
“What’s your plan for tomorrow? I can pick you up in the morning.”
I force myself not to think about all the craziness that had been coming out of my mouth not too long ago. It was as if my inner voice had possessed me, and all the things I usually thought just came out at once. It was very, very nice of Mark not to have mentioned any of it. He probably thinks I lost my mind on those pills.
“Kyle?”
“Oh—no, thanks. I’ll stay home the rest of the week,” I say. I could go to school without the prosthetic, but even if I surmounted that particular mental block, the fall earlier had given me a scare. I fell hundreds of times last semester, but one fallnowand I’m left in genuine pain. I’m not eager to repeat the experience.
My answer satisfies Mark.
He leaves not long after without bringing up the wholecome on my stomachthing.
Chapter Nine
“How was the evening with your possessive friend?” Tommy asks me.
We’re sitting in the cafeteria together at one of the four-person booths, waiting on Bethany and Louis to return with lunch. I took a few days’ rest and my leg feels much better in the prosthetic, and the replacement is meant to arrive by courier any day now.
“It was fine,” I say.
Tommy looks amused. “You didn’t curse at him? Not even once? Or tell him ‘fuck a horse, you posh shit?’”
I redden, cringing hard at the memory. I said that to Mark once. We’d been playing basketball. I’d blocked him from behind and ended up in a full-contact manoeuvre with him. I’d gotten so overwhelmed I straight up shoved him on the ground and cursed at him. Mark had turned to me, bewildered, and the entire court had descended into madness as players picked sides and a huge fight broke out.
I glare at Tommy, who looks incredibly amused. “I didn’t—” I hesitate. I did curse at him, actually.
Tommy snickers, “Knew it. A zebra can’t change its stripes.”
“Well, I,” I begin, floundering for a defence. Tommy sips his water. “I also told him to come on my stomach.”
