Page 11 of The Fates We Tame

She shrugs and smiles like it doesn’t matter. But the smile doesn’t touch the corner of her eye. “We can only move forward.”

“Aren’t you angry about it?” I ask.

The mask slips. “Furious,” she says, her voice a strangled whisper. “Some days I think if I let the rage out, I’d blow all the windows out of this room.” Then she sniffs, straightens a crease in her sweater, and sits up straighter. “Still, we’ve got our breathing exercises to get us through, right?”

The words are laced with sarcasm that matches my own feelings on the subject.

I pick up the water glass and watch the liquid slosh inside. “I can’t ride my bike.”

My body has been too broken, my vision too blurred, my hand too shaky to get on my bike, even though I can remember how to do it.

“That really sucks. I’m sorry it’s stopped you from doing something you clearly loved. My parents want me to move home and live with them, and while I can’t remember living with them when I was younger, or living alone since, I’m certain it’s a recipe for disaster.”

She laughs at this, and I can see the tug of war in her features. It’s as if her laughter is uncontrolled, even as she looks sad from our conversation.

“Bat,” she mutters. “Just bat.”

“Bat?” I ask.

“Breathe, adjust, think,” she says. She closes her eyes, breathes, rolls her shoulders back, and then settles.

When she opens her eyes, she’s composed again.

“Clever trick.”

She circles her finger around the room. “That’s why we pay this place the big bucks. Well, mainly we pay them the big bucks because we’re in a five-star hospital with views over Central Park and caviar on the menu, but you know what I mean.”

“That’s a fair assessment.”

“It’s pretty privileged to scoff at the fact I have access to the fanciest health care, but it can’t fix everything. I laugh at the most inappropriate topics. I still struggle with figurative things and have trouble remembering anything new. I forgot two of my brothers’ names just this morning and had to check on my Notes app.”

She picks up her fork and starts to eat, so I follow her lead.

I’m sure the food is perfectly seasoned, but everything has tasted like cardboard since the…

I struggle to think the wordaccident.

I force myself to try to remember the details I couldn’t recall yesterday. What did King and Halo tell me about the accident? The lie is I was out on my bike and was the victim of a hit-and-run. My president found me on the side of the road.

But what was the truth? Halo and his old lady think I’m a fucking hero. Something to do with her. Saving her from something. Stepping in the way of something meant for Halo. I can sense darkness. A warm summer night maybe.

A baby?

Fuck. Who has a baby?

“Spastic,” I say finally. “I struggle to bend my fingers...hurts to squeeze.”

She puts her cutlery down and reaches for my hand. I’ve got no idea why I offer it to her, palm up. Within a second, she’ssomehow maneuvered her hands to either side of mine and is stretching my palm, opening it up. Then her thumbs begin to work on the muscles that feel as though they are in a permanent state of spasm.

I can barely hold back a groan.

Perhaps I should feel bad that her lunch is going cold, but I can’t bring myself to remind her to eat. I close my eyes and let her do whatever this fucking sorcery is.

For the second time since the accident, my cock perks up and takes notice. Both boners have been because of Sophia. Sensory deprivation is a thing when you’re in medical care. The only people who touch you are generally doing something to you. Poking you with needles, cutting parts of your body open, changing dressings. Even bed baths, the most intimate of things, feel cold because there is a high level of embarrassment, and mine were always done by a male nurse called Jude.

The touch of a woman is…

My mind drifts. For a moment, I try to pretend I’m anywhere other than here. On the bank of a lake. A beach. Even the clubhouse. But this bothers me because I don’t know which room is mine now, and in my daydream, my dad is still there in his cut that proclaims him to be road captain, even though I know he and Mom retired to Florida. Wait, was he wearing a cut when he came by on…?