months. I could make myself a DO and parents everywhere would write me hateful letters because after seeing me as a Snap DO their kid bought in to the amputation-is-awesome hype and now there’s nothing they can do to get their child’s feet back. They’ll never be in the Olympics unless it’s the Special Olympics and that’s just not the same no matter what anyone says.
I’m trying to think of the closest axe store when my cell rings. I’m disappointed when the caller ID comes up as Genevieve and not Jack and then I’m sure I’m a dirtbag whose feet deserve to be chopped off without an epidural.
“Hey, Gen. What’s up?”
“You haven’t called me back.”
“Yeah, sorry. It’s Bootcamp weekend.” Gen called yesterday. I picked the message up at the bar but couldn’t hear a thing. I remember this with total clarity and it’s a gold-star moment on a dark and unforgiving day.
“I know it’s Bootcamp weekend. I don’t know why you need Ted there, but fine, whatever. It’s work, I know. But I need to know if you’re coming to the party.”
“Right. The party.” I have no idea what she’s talking about. And why is Ted telling her I need him here? “What’s the date again?”
“Next Saturday at eleven— a.m. ”
“Of course, eleven a.m. It’s not like you’d have a party at eleven p.m., ” I say.
“We used to.” Gen’s voice is very small.
“Are you okay?”
“Of course. I’m fine. I’ll let you go.” She’s snuffling, but I have to go—the group is heading out the door.
“Are you sure? We can talk later if you want.”
In the background I hear Olivier shriek and I rip the phone away from my ear. After the initial shock dulls, I slowly bring it back toward my head. “I gotta go,” Gen says, her voice suddenly brusque. “We’ll talk soon.”
At dinner I see Eva approach a stylish couple sitting a few tables over. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but they’re all nodding and smiling. I see Eva hand them each what looks like a business card. Eva has cards? I get up and hobble over to Ted, who’s currently sandwiched between Precious Finger and Zeitgeist. Precious Finger has ordered fries and mayo again and seems to be angling for a replay of last night’s action with Zeitgeist, but he’s having none of it and saves his lechy grin for our leggy waitress. “Eva has cards?” I whisper in Ted’s ear.
“What?”
“Eva has business cards? Did you get her cards already?”
“What are you talking about, Sara?”
Maybe Ted’s the one who needs to wear a helmet and live in a house with no sharp edges. “I saw Eva giving those people cards and I wanted to know if you ordered her business cards.” I speak very, very slowly.
“They’re your cards,” he says. “She needed something with the Snap address and number so I gave her a stack of your cards so she can invite the right people to tomorrow’s roundtable.”
“Of course. The roundtable.”
“You don’t mind, do you? I’ll order her cards Monday.”
“Monday,” I repeat after Ted.
“Are you all right? You don’t look so good. Maybe you should go home and take it easy.”
“We still have the gig.”
“Eva and I can handle the gig.”
“But she’s staying at my place.”
“I can give her your spare key,” Ted says as he pulls his keys out of his briefcase that looks like an old-fashioned doctor’s bag and dangles them in front of me.
I’m hypnotized—not by the dangling but by thoughts of a bath, my bed and a pair of ugly panties. “Only if you’re sure,” I say.
As amusing as it would be to watch Precious Finger chase Zeitgeist and Big Thing chase Precious Finger and the boring ones try without success to find some semblance of rhythm at tonight’s gig, I’ve seen it before.
I didn’t hear Eva come in last night and this morning it’s my turn to wake her with coffee and Advil. She groans and reaches for her glasses. There are makeup smears on the pillowcase and she’s
I’m trying to think of the closest axe store when my cell rings. I’m disappointed when the caller ID comes up as Genevieve and not Jack and then I’m sure I’m a dirtbag whose feet deserve to be chopped off without an epidural.
“Hey, Gen. What’s up?”
“You haven’t called me back.”
“Yeah, sorry. It’s Bootcamp weekend.” Gen called yesterday. I picked the message up at the bar but couldn’t hear a thing. I remember this with total clarity and it’s a gold-star moment on a dark and unforgiving day.
“I know it’s Bootcamp weekend. I don’t know why you need Ted there, but fine, whatever. It’s work, I know. But I need to know if you’re coming to the party.”
“Right. The party.” I have no idea what she’s talking about. And why is Ted telling her I need him here? “What’s the date again?”
“Next Saturday at eleven— a.m. ”
“Of course, eleven a.m. It’s not like you’d have a party at eleven p.m., ” I say.
“We used to.” Gen’s voice is very small.
“Are you okay?”
“Of course. I’m fine. I’ll let you go.” She’s snuffling, but I have to go—the group is heading out the door.
“Are you sure? We can talk later if you want.”
In the background I hear Olivier shriek and I rip the phone away from my ear. After the initial shock dulls, I slowly bring it back toward my head. “I gotta go,” Gen says, her voice suddenly brusque. “We’ll talk soon.”
At dinner I see Eva approach a stylish couple sitting a few tables over. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but they’re all nodding and smiling. I see Eva hand them each what looks like a business card. Eva has cards? I get up and hobble over to Ted, who’s currently sandwiched between Precious Finger and Zeitgeist. Precious Finger has ordered fries and mayo again and seems to be angling for a replay of last night’s action with Zeitgeist, but he’s having none of it and saves his lechy grin for our leggy waitress. “Eva has cards?” I whisper in Ted’s ear.
“What?”
“Eva has business cards? Did you get her cards already?”
“What are you talking about, Sara?”
Maybe Ted’s the one who needs to wear a helmet and live in a house with no sharp edges. “I saw Eva giving those people cards and I wanted to know if you ordered her business cards.” I speak very, very slowly.
“They’re your cards,” he says. “She needed something with the Snap address and number so I gave her a stack of your cards so she can invite the right people to tomorrow’s roundtable.”
“Of course. The roundtable.”
“You don’t mind, do you? I’ll order her cards Monday.”
“Monday,” I repeat after Ted.
“Are you all right? You don’t look so good. Maybe you should go home and take it easy.”
“We still have the gig.”
“Eva and I can handle the gig.”
“But she’s staying at my place.”
“I can give her your spare key,” Ted says as he pulls his keys out of his briefcase that looks like an old-fashioned doctor’s bag and dangles them in front of me.
I’m hypnotized—not by the dangling but by thoughts of a bath, my bed and a pair of ugly panties. “Only if you’re sure,” I say.
As amusing as it would be to watch Precious Finger chase Zeitgeist and Big Thing chase Precious Finger and the boring ones try without success to find some semblance of rhythm at tonight’s gig, I’ve seen it before.
I didn’t hear Eva come in last night and this morning it’s my turn to wake her with coffee and Advil. She groans and reaches for her glasses. There are makeup smears on the pillowcase and she’s
Similar Books
