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I need this job to pay off a line of credit I took out after Harvey’s accident. I also want to buy him a modified car that’s fit for him to drive.
An hour passes before I jump in the shower. I shave all over and lather on way too much apple cider shampoo in my hair.
I close my eyes and breathe in deeply, the warm water soothing my aching body. It’s not from physical pain—it’s from emotional turmoil. I can almost feel the impact of my thoughts about Harv and my interview navigate to my stomach, turning it upside down.
I rinse off and step out of the shower, drying myself. My reflection appears in the mirror. I see that I’ve lost more weight, which isn’t a good look considering I’m already on the thin side.
A knock on the door stirs me away from my mind-wandering.
“Gemma, it’s Claire.”
I wrap a towel around my body, folding it at the top before I open the door of the bathroom.
“I’m heading out for the day, alright?” she says, looking at my shoulders, then my arms. “You... lost weight.”
I bite my tongue; she looks genuinely concerned. And I’m not Gia. I can’t hate this girl because she’s pretty and doing a hell of a good job. I just can’t.
That’s not me.
“I’m working on it.”
“I can make dinner if you want?” she looks hopeful.
“No, Claire. You do enough. Thanks, though.” She gives me an awkward smile, then walks away. I close the door behind me and lean on it, needing a second to recover.
Then I dress and make myself look nice. I even add on mascara with a few strokes of blush and some tinted lip balm.
Ready to give this—us, another try.
I’m dressed in black jeans and my black Harry Potter T-shirt with the glasses and the lightning bolt on it when I walk to the kitchen.
Harvey’s in his room, playing on his PlayStation. We used to play together at the beginning of our relationship. I beat his ass more than a couple of times. Now he prefers to be alone, so I let him.
I cook the steaks and potatoes and serve salad onto two plates. The light snow falling from the sky outside is beautiful, though I can’t wait for summer.
To feel the wind, the sun, even the humidity.
The thought brings me back to old memories of us going on motorcycle rides together. I was nineteen when I bought my own bike instead of using my dad’s. I didn’t have it for long, unfortunately. While Gia saved for her wedding, I saved for a piece of metal.
The metal was part of my life. Part of me.
A black ZX-6R 636cc. Such a beauty. Even more so whenI eventually added some gold details to it. Now it’s gone and so is the thrill and joy it brought me.
Once dinner is ready and set, I knock on Harvey’s bedroom door, then open it.
“Dinner’s ready,” I say enthusiastically.
All I see is the quick nod of his head, his way of acknowledging me. I cross my arms, staring at his posture. His taut shoulder muscles are visible above his wheelchair. As I make my way to his lowered bed, my eyes drift to his blond hair.
Silence.
I loved our silent moments once.
Now they’re filled with inexplicable anger mixed with a sprinkle of love and loyalty.
From my view, I can see the veins popping out of his forearms. That’s his daily dose of exercise, playing on that machine. It does nothing for his morale, nothing for his positivity, nothing for his physical therapy. All that PlayStation does is keep him entertained enough to avoid me all day.
I wish I could throw it out of the window or run it over with our van.
