Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 136296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
“What do you mean things would spiral?”
“Nightmares, bed-wetting, that kind of thing. But I took care of those for her whenever I could too, so we could keep the peace.” I pull out the liquid bandage and unscrew the cap. “This part is gonna sting.”
I work from the outside to the middle, blowing on the liquid as I go, the smell making my nostrils sting. Clover remains still and stoic while I apply it, making sure the whole wound is covered. “This will last for a day or so, and then you don’t have to worry about it bleeding on your clothes.” I move on to the other hand.
She hums in acknowledgment. “You’re so different right now than you are when you’re in my class.”
I lift my gaze for another second, then refocus on her injuries. I want to address the elephant in the room, but I don’t want to invite more awkwardness. “I’ve probably been a dick in your class. It hasn’t been intentional. Mostly I didn’t know how to manage the dynamic, and sometimes I don’t think before I do and say things. It’s hereditary. I get it from my mom.”
Her expression is wry. “Which part is hereditary?”
“The verbal diarrhea. Digging myself into a hole and not being able to get out without making an ass of myself. Out of all my siblings, I think that’s what she passed on to me. My mom has it way worse, and she got it from my Gigi, who is the queen of inappropriate conversations. I love her, but her overshare filter is totally blown. And apparently so is mine tonight, since I’m telling you my entire life story.”
I swipe the liquid bandage along Clover’s other palm. This one isn’t nearly as bad. Just a few small scrapes.
“I appreciate the distraction,” she says, the tremor in her voice not quite so obvious anymore. “It makes it easier to focus on the present.”
“I get that—the trying to stay in the now. It’s how I try to live my life, because looking back can be a minefield.” I need to shut up, but I feel compelled to keep talking, to keep her from focusing on the fears that might be lingering in the periphery of her thoughts, the things that rule mine.
“Because of what happened to your sister? What you wrote about in your story?” Clover asks.
I nod. “Sometimes I can go weeks without thinking about it, but sometimes it’s a constant loop. And I wonder what it’s like for her. Because she’s the one who went through it, not me.”
“That’s why you stepped in today.” It’s not a question.
“Women are to be revered, not abused—verbally, emotionally, or otherwise.” My jaw cracks. “Those guys were assholes, and we should call the police and file a report. Plus, I know the garage they work at. I’ll call their boss in the morning and let him know what happened. He won’t be happy about it.”
“How is your hand? I think you punched one of them?”
I glance down at my knuckles. There’s a small bruise forming, but otherwise it’s fine. “It’s nothing to worry about.” I close the first aid kit. “Anyway, your hands are all taken care of. You fell pretty hard, though, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re a little sore all over tomorrow. A hot bath would probably be helpful. Also, sometimes the shock takes a while to wear off before the emotional weight of it hits, and it’s nice to have a friend around when that happens.”
Clover blows out a breath. “Thank you for being so . . . compassionate.”
“I want to make sure you’re okay,” I tell her.
She nods a few times and gingerly laces her fingers together, as if she’s unsure what she should do with them now.
“I teach a self-defense class at one of the gyms off campus,” I add. “It’s free for anyone who wants to take it, and I run it twice a week, usually on Monday evenings and Saturdays, unless I have a game, and then one of the other trainers subs in for me. Maybe you’d want to come check it out? You don’t even have to participate, just watch or whatever. It teaches you the basics. It’s a real mixed bag of people who come out, sometimes moms and their daughters, lots of students from the college, sometimes a group of friends. It’s kind of empowering, you know?”
She cocks her head to the side, and this time when she looks at me, I feel it on a visceral level, like she’s trying to see her way inside me. I avert my eyes and scan the kitchen. There’s a magnetic notepad stuck to the fridge with a pen attached to it. I get up, feeling a little restless and like I probably need to get the hell out of here.