She didn’t even need to exercise anymore. No matter what she ate, she didn’t gain weight. The only things Victoria could stomach were peanut butter cookies, potato chips and onion dip, popcorn doused in a stick of butter-things she’d long avoided. This strange, new body.Įverything the living would consider healthy-the kale spinach smoothies she used to blend every morning, the medley of squash, carrots, and onions she’d roast for dinner-tasted repugnant to her now. She wondered if maybe it wasn’t the fruit. The banana tasted just as ashy as the strawberry, but the chocolate casing was smooth and velvety. Victoria braved the chocolate-covered banana. “It’s good,” he said with his mouth full, garbling his words. He took a fresh strawberry from the bouquet, sniffed it. He wiped her hand clean with a paper towel. “That’s got to be the grossest thing you’ve ever done.” He forced a smile to show he was only joking. “Jesus, what’d you do that for?” Billy said. She spit it out, covering her hand in a stringy mess of red entrails. She plucked a strawberry from a plastic stem. A hot white light radiated from his body, but it was hard for her to care. You could meet me halfway here.” His irritation was palpable. “You have to talk about your feelings, Vicky.” “Don’t you have tires to rotate? Oil to change?” she said. “You know.” He placed a hand back on her stomach. She slid off her stool and moved to the other side of the counter. His fingers felt like clammy little tendrils. He massaged her belly, slid a hand up her shirt. Instead of feeling guilty, Victoria felt relieved not to be there, contorted in her desk chair so long her knees went stiff, her feet numb, tingling pinpricks climbing her shin until her entire leg fell asleep and she had to punch it back to life.īilly wrapped his arms around her waist. “We’re lost without you.” It was from her coworkers at the marketing firm. Victoria sat at the island counter, eating chocolate chips straight from the bag.īilly set down a bouquet of pineapples, strawberries, chocolate-covered bananas blooming from a pot wrapped in crinkled red paper. “Look what came!” Billy said, appearing in the kitchen. The exhilaration she felt when she thought it was all over. She remembered the great big oak rushing toward her. The breeze rustled her hair, blowing behind her, going through her, carrying her faster, farther. The street lamps lit up a mosaic of reds and yellows blazing in the trees, openly signaling their imminent decay. She floated out of the room, down the hospital’s corridors, all the way outside. She could barely feel the ground beneath her feet, like she was floating. She walked to the hallway on unsteady feet, wispy legs. The breeze drifted in through the open window, grazing Victoria’s exposed back. The thin hospital gown hung from her body like a bag. She hadn’t even been showing, and yet, she felt lighter. She felt a large bump on her forehead, but it didn’t even hurt, like it wasn’t even real. The left side looked all banged up-leg in a brace, arm in a sling-but she felt perfectly symmetrical. “I’ll go find the doctor and hunt down some food.”Īfter Billy left, she examined her body. She leaned back against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. He grabbed her hand, but she could barely feel his touch. I’m so sorry.” He brushed a lock of hair from her forehead, exposing a ripe armpit. The doctor said you have a pretty serious concussion.” He was grimacing. Staring at the steady stream of hypnotic white lines, the empty pavement stretching to infinity. Fishing a bruised banana from her purse for him. Nodding to the resident peddler on the corner. Victoria had a vague memory of leaving work. He dragged a chair next to her hospital bed. “I can’t breathe,” she managed to mumble beneath the weight of his lips. Every time she thought it would end, it somehow kept going. His lips smashed into hers, pressing her hard into the pillow. His breath smelled like something rotten-a forgotten peach, curdled milk. He flew toward her, swooping down and kissing her before she could stop him. He had sallow skin, dark bags beneath bloodshot eyes. An unkempt man slouched in a chair, fist propping up a mess of greasy dark hair. She blinked again and again until the room came into focus.
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