Page 36 of You Again

Me: “Operation whatever” absolutely makes you dorky.

Zev: I’m learning so many things today.

Zev: So… soup?

Me: Seriously, Zev, you don’t want this bug. It’s awful. I caught it from a very innocent-looking baby. Believe me, it’ll sneak up on you.

Zev: At least let me drop soup off on your doorstep.

Me: It sounds like you’re trying to get my address.

Me: Creep?

Zev: Creep? Why’d you jump there? Friends. Remember?

I’m blowing my nose when another text comes in.

Zev: Fine, no soup. No address.

Zev: But I’m worried about you.

Me: You should be. I might not make it.

Zev: See, you can’t say things like that and then expect me to sit over here and do nothing.

Me: You’re one of those… aren’t you?

Zev: One of those?

Me: It’s fine. I am, too.

Me: A fixer.

Zev: Yes, I am one of those.

Zev: And for the record, I’m relieved you aren’t the kind of girl that gives her address out to just anyone.

Me: You’re a worrier, too. Nice.

And then⁠—

Me: 14 Marigold Rd.

Who knows what possessed me? Maybe Siri. Siri has it out for me today. But he sounds so genuine. So worried. Plus, he backed off quick. He isn’t trying to make a move. Zev’s simply a good friend. Not to mention, I could really use some chicken noodle soup about now.

Eighteen

My physical therapist massages the muscle next to my tibia, but I stare at my phone screen. “Yes,” I mutter to myself. Rosalie’s text is a shining beacon. I jerk with the jolt of pain Darwin’s caused me. “Ow.”

“You could have nerve damage,” he says. “That would explain your pain and your slow recovery.”

“How long is that going to take to heal?”

He tilts his head and lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “It could take months. It could also never heal correctly. When is your next appointment with the surgeon?”

“Couple of weeks.” But I may have a heart attack long before I see the surgeon. My heart is going through an acrobat of emotion—sky high with Rosalie’s address text and plummeting with the PT’s evaluation.

Practice only has thirty minutes left by the time I’m done with therapy. I’m so tempted to skip, knowing I’ll sit, watch, and die a little inside.