Page 26 of Man Flu

“Forget about work.” If I do that, my thoughts go directly to Cora, wondering if she’s feeling any better. Rather than calling her like a good mother would be doing, I’m having lunch with a man I’d be drooling over if I wouldn’t be fired for it. I suppose I can drool with my imagination. I can do other things with my imagination too. Oh yeah, my imagination is good. It has always been good to me.

I look over at Logan as we’re walking into the café, and he’s naked. His ass has those side muscles that you could fit a fist into (not that I’ve tried). I’ve never felt an ass like that before. I wonder if it’s all firm or if any part of it is soft. Also, it’s hairless so is that because he waxes, shaves, or maybe he’s just lucky? Because Rick’s ass is hairier than his head, and it was nothing I fondly touched or looked at. When I did accidentally touch it, it felt like running my fingers through an old man’s balding head with stringy hair.

“You look like you’re not feeling so hot. Are you okay?” Logan asks as he opens the door

“Oh, I—I was just thinking about my ex-husband’s hairy a—wow, okay, um, yeah, I’m fine.”

The look on Logan’s face is one of sheer discomfort. “I’m sorry, were you just about to say you were thinking about your husband’s hairy ass?”

He releases the door to the cafe, closing us outside of the warmth. “Um.”

“It’s either a yes or no?”

“Why does it matter to you?” I come back with. Smooth, Hannah. Real smooth.

“Well, we were walking into the restaurant, I asked you if you felt okay and you shouted something about your ex-husband’s hairy ass. Obviously, you can’t blame me for wondering what the correlation is?”

There are many days, and moments within those days, where I just say screw it and release what my big trap was holding in. “Well, since I’m already at risk for sexual harassment, I might as well be honest with you and just say I was wondering what your ass looked like, and it made me realize I’ve never actually seen a nice-looking, naked ass because I was with my ex-husband since high school.”

“I’m flattered that you think I have a nice ass, even though you’ve never seen it, hopefully, but if you knew your ex since high school, there had to be a point in time where he had a nice ass?” Logan crosses his arms over his chest as if he were honestly intrigued by my statements.

“Never,” I tell him honestly. “It was his worst feature … before he cheated on me.”

“Inferiority complex,” he says.

“What?” I wrap my arms around my body because I’m beginning to shiver from the cold. Logan notices and reopens the door to the cafe. “I meant he was probably feeling down about himself since you probably have a pretty nice ass, so he needed to see if someone else would take him with his funky ass, or if it was just you.”

“Wow,” I say, walking into the warmth. I’m flattered he thinks I have a nice ass. That’s sweet. Let’s hope he never finds out that it’s a little saggy, with a touch of cellulite mixed in.

“What do you eat here?”

“The roast beef sandwich is pretty good,” I tell him.

“Good, go sit down. I’ll grab us a couple of sandwiches. I’m sure you want to call to see how Cora’s feeling.”

I love you. That almost just came out of my mouth. It’s a good thing I still have some sort of a filter left.

I take the booth in the back corner and call the house phone first to see if they’re still there. No answer, though. I love calling Rick’s phone. It’s like the highlight of my life.

Yo? Rick speaking. Asshole.

“Yo, Rick speaking.”

“Why do you need to announce yourself when you have caller ID?”

“Habit,” he says.

“Kind of like infidelity?” Why can’t I help acting like a five-year-old every time I talk to him? “How is Cora?”

“The fever broke. I had her in the tub for a bit this morning since she was freezing, but after some Motrin, she seemed to get a little energy. She’s napping now, though.”

“I feel awful that I’m not there,” I tell him. It was an inside thought that should have stayed inside.

“She’s in good hands, Hannah. I am her father. I can take care of her.” He can’t see me squinting my eyes at his words. How come he never took care of her while we were married? He was always too busy doing something else, to stop and give me a hand with her. Now he’s father of the year because he’s working from home like he does plenty of days a year, and she’s napping.

“Okay.”

“I’ll give you a call if anything changes.”