shrugged. A part of me was sincerely hoping that I wasn’t hallucinating my physical improvement. I had always been insecure about myself, especially my hair, and I couldn’t help but feel a brief spurt of confidence at Macy’s exclamation.
Stepping into the shower, I turned the water up hot— his eyes, drowning with pain —and entered the spray, sighing in pleasure under the stream. Since Friday night, I preferred only showers at the highest temperature, my skin reddening with the scorching heat but never burning. Reluctantly, I turned off the spray when my fingers began to prune.
Toweling off and putting on a simple pair of blue jeans and a purple t-shirt (all the while picturing Macy shaking her finger at me in fashion-disapproval), I stepped into the kitchen and turned on my ancient coffee maker, though it still ran like a dream.
As the smell of coffee began to take over my studio apartment, Macy grumbled in her sleep as she rolled over onto her back, cracking her eyes open to look at me.
“What’s up,” she said, her voice hoarse.
“What’s up yourself,” I said without looking up as I began to crack eggs into a bowl. “You ready to face daylight yet?”
“Not particularly,” she said as she sat up and rubbed her face. “Oh, the punishment alcohol forces upon me…”
I studied Macy as she stacked my pillows and curled up against the wall, pulling the covers back over her. I decided to put into play what I had been anxiously debating over in the shower. I just wanted to see. I just wanted to reassure myself that maybe my mind wasn’t shattering into a million tiny pieces, and that maybe something tangible was happening to me. Even if I might not have done it to Rob—he might be an imaginary boyfriend I made up, or if he wasn’t imaginary, he was possibly a slitty-eyed, yellow-fanged monster, neither of which were credible sources—I definitely did it to Macy on Friday night.
I narrowed my eyes at her, squinting with effort as I attempted to focus my mind and think, Make yourself a cup of coffee and drink it.
Macy groaned, stirring like a sleeping dragon under the covers, one that would only awaken if her golden treasure were physically taken from underneath her. Either that or poked her.
Nothing. The lump under the covers barely even shifted.
I am not crazy I am not crazy I am not crazy, I thought frantically. This had to be real.
Then I remembered. Eye contact!
“Hey, Macy?” I asked, as innocently as I could. Macy lowered the covers only slightly, just enough for me to see a set of squinting, red-rimmed eyes.
“This better be good,” she said, her voice muffled.
I caught her gaze, and narrowed my eyes again. This time, I felt the gentle heat at the back of my head, almost like a small flame illuminating my unconscious. “ Get up, grab the cup of coffee beside me. Drink it.”
Her eyes dilated to black and the covers across her face dropped, and I saw her mouth slacken slightly. Without a word, she rose from the bed, walked past me and grabbed my cooling mug of coffee. She stood in front of me robotically, lifting the mug to her mouth and gulping the liquid down.
“Holy shit,” I whispered. Mixed emotions assaulted me, almost like panic and euphoria blending together. Despite these raging sensations, I knew enough not to break eye contact with Macy until I put her back where she was. It wouldn’t do to explain to her how she ended up in front of me chugging lukewarm coffee when she had just been curled up in a fetal position in my bed.
“ Now go back and lie down .”
Without expression, she backed up to the bed, her gaze still held by mine. Once she was curled back up under the covers, I blinked and looked away, breaking the connection.
Macy blinked back. “What are you disturbing my hang-over for?”
I startled. I didn’t expect her to come back into consciousness that quickly. “Oh, nothing. Don’t worry,” I gestured awkwardly with the whisk before I looked
Stepping into the shower, I turned the water up hot— his eyes, drowning with pain —and entered the spray, sighing in pleasure under the stream. Since Friday night, I preferred only showers at the highest temperature, my skin reddening with the scorching heat but never burning. Reluctantly, I turned off the spray when my fingers began to prune.
Toweling off and putting on a simple pair of blue jeans and a purple t-shirt (all the while picturing Macy shaking her finger at me in fashion-disapproval), I stepped into the kitchen and turned on my ancient coffee maker, though it still ran like a dream.
As the smell of coffee began to take over my studio apartment, Macy grumbled in her sleep as she rolled over onto her back, cracking her eyes open to look at me.
“What’s up,” she said, her voice hoarse.
“What’s up yourself,” I said without looking up as I began to crack eggs into a bowl. “You ready to face daylight yet?”
“Not particularly,” she said as she sat up and rubbed her face. “Oh, the punishment alcohol forces upon me…”
I studied Macy as she stacked my pillows and curled up against the wall, pulling the covers back over her. I decided to put into play what I had been anxiously debating over in the shower. I just wanted to see. I just wanted to reassure myself that maybe my mind wasn’t shattering into a million tiny pieces, and that maybe something tangible was happening to me. Even if I might not have done it to Rob—he might be an imaginary boyfriend I made up, or if he wasn’t imaginary, he was possibly a slitty-eyed, yellow-fanged monster, neither of which were credible sources—I definitely did it to Macy on Friday night.
I narrowed my eyes at her, squinting with effort as I attempted to focus my mind and think, Make yourself a cup of coffee and drink it.
Macy groaned, stirring like a sleeping dragon under the covers, one that would only awaken if her golden treasure were physically taken from underneath her. Either that or poked her.
Nothing. The lump under the covers barely even shifted.
I am not crazy I am not crazy I am not crazy, I thought frantically. This had to be real.
Then I remembered. Eye contact!
“Hey, Macy?” I asked, as innocently as I could. Macy lowered the covers only slightly, just enough for me to see a set of squinting, red-rimmed eyes.
“This better be good,” she said, her voice muffled.
I caught her gaze, and narrowed my eyes again. This time, I felt the gentle heat at the back of my head, almost like a small flame illuminating my unconscious. “ Get up, grab the cup of coffee beside me. Drink it.”
Her eyes dilated to black and the covers across her face dropped, and I saw her mouth slacken slightly. Without a word, she rose from the bed, walked past me and grabbed my cooling mug of coffee. She stood in front of me robotically, lifting the mug to her mouth and gulping the liquid down.
“Holy shit,” I whispered. Mixed emotions assaulted me, almost like panic and euphoria blending together. Despite these raging sensations, I knew enough not to break eye contact with Macy until I put her back where she was. It wouldn’t do to explain to her how she ended up in front of me chugging lukewarm coffee when she had just been curled up in a fetal position in my bed.
“ Now go back and lie down .”
Without expression, she backed up to the bed, her gaze still held by mine. Once she was curled back up under the covers, I blinked and looked away, breaking the connection.
Macy blinked back. “What are you disturbing my hang-over for?”
I startled. I didn’t expect her to come back into consciousness that quickly. “Oh, nothing. Don’t worry,” I gestured awkwardly with the whisk before I looked
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