The Fix

by Natasha Sinel

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Forty-seven minutes.”

  “Forty-seven minutes? Are you kidding? It felt like fifteen or twenty.”

  He smiled. “You were in the zone, weren’t you?”

  “I guess I was.” I was in the zone.

  “Adrenaline,” he said. “It’s addictive, but not illegal.”

  We laughed. I felt different, like something in me had irreversibly changed. Like from this moment on, I would be different somehow. A switch had been flipped.

  “Didn’t you say something about a cheeseburger?” he asked.

  “Totally. I’m starving. Diner?”

  I retrieved my keys from the tire. Miraculously, no one had stolen them.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  We got in the car, our bodies hot and sweaty. Even sitting, sweat still trickled down my face.

  “You think it’s okay to go to the diner like this?” I asked.

  “Sure. If it’s okay with you. I don’t mind waiting if you want to shower, though.”

  “No. I don’t care if you don’t,” I said. I’d rather Mom not see me all sweaty and invigorated. It would be too triumphant for her.

  My phone rang. Chris. I pressed ignore.

  Sebastian pretended not to notice, even though there was no way he hadn’t seen the giant CHRIS lit up on the screen.

  When we got to the diner, Sebastian got us a table while I went to the bathroom. I listened to Chris’s message.

  “Hi,” he said. I could hear cheering in the background. “Still at the game. My mom asked if you can come for dinner tonight. Can you come?”

  I texted him.

  ME: Yes, c u tonite.

  When I looked in the mirror, I was surprised by the person looking back at me. My face was flushed pink, my eyes were bright, my lips full. I looked different. Feminine. Sweet. Pretty. Borderline happy, even. I smiled a big toothy smile to see what I would look like as a happy, pure person, and then it struck me hard, like a punch in the gut. With my fake smile and my flushed cheeks, I looked like Mom. I quickly splashed water on my face, trying to clean off the sweat and the similarities to Mom. I dried my face with rough paper towels and headed back to Sebastian.

  I slid into the booth across from him, my legs sticking to the red vinyl. He’d already downed the water in his glass and was working on mine.

  “Hey,” I said. “That’s my water!”

  “Thirsty. Can’t get enough. Can you see the guy? Will you get him over here? I’ve never been more thirsty in my life.” He was letting the water run down his chin and dribble all over his lap.

  I laughed. “Stop it,” I said. “You’re being an idiot.”

  “Idiot?” He said, now patting his lips and chin with a napkin. “Want to see my report card?”

  “No thanks, smartass,” I said, waving to the waiter.

  “Not into goofy, huh?”

  “I dig goofy,” I said. “Come on, I have a fourteen-year-old geek brother. It was just surprising from you.”

  “Ah, the surprise attack,” he said. “It works every time.”

  He raised his eyebrows at me flirtatiously as the waiter poured more water into our glasses. I pictured the water dribbling down his chin again, his fake-innocent face pretending he didn’t notice, and I laughed again.

  “You have a nice laugh,” he said.

  “Stop it,” I said.

  “Stop what?”

  “Being all charming and stuff. Don’t do that.”

  He smiled slyly. “Can’t help it. You bring it out.”

  “Didn’t you say that—”

  “Yes,” he said. “I did. We did. We said there would be none of this.” He gestured back and forth between us and then opened his menu. “What are you getting?”

  “Cheeseburger,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. His words felt a whole hell of a lot like rejection.

  “Me too,” he said. “With bacon.”

  While we waited for the waiter to come back, we were quiet, staring at each other. There was electricity between us, just traveling back and forth. Crackle crackle crackle. It wasn’t stopping, and I was convinced there was no way I’d make it out of this relationship, or whatever it was, alive.

  When the waiter came, we ordered. I played with the sugar packets; he spun the salt shaker around and around.

  “Everyone has their shit,” Sebastian said. “Little secrets, big secrets, baggage. Everyone.”

  “Where did that come from?” I asked.

  He shrugged.

  “I just wish I knew,” he said.

  “Knew what?”

  “What’s under there,” he said.

  “Under where?”

  “Ha! Made you say it,” he said, with a giant smile.

  “Oh my god. Second grade much?”

  I remembered Scott playing that joke on me when I was little. I’d thought it was the funniest thing I’d ever heard.

  Sebastian’s smile slowly faded.

  “Really, though. I want to know everything about you,” he said, his voice catching on the “you.”

  My pulse raced, and I wondered if he could see it throbbing in my neck.

  “Stop,” I said. “Please.”

  He nodded, but his eyes still pleaded with me.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I just can’t.”

  I changed the subject back to him.

  “So, are things better at home?”

  He nodded. “My mom and stepfather are totally dealing. I mean, I’m definitely being watched big time—I can’t pick my nose without asking first—and they’re walking around on eggshells, but yeah, they’re there for me.”

  I felt a pang in my chest. Were my parents there for me? As much as I wanted to think they were, they weren’t. Not really.

  “Look,” I said. “I know this is hard for you to appreciate from the inside, but it’s amazing that they noticed something was going on with you. And even though it sucks that your mom put you in that place, she did it to make you better. And she’s watching you now because she knows this is the hard part—being home—and she doesn’t want you to go back to that place. She doesn’t want to lose you.”

  “Is she paying you?”

  I’d surprised even myself. I had no idea that I’d felt that way about his mom. Something made me feel a kinship toward her, a special love even, for wanting so badly to save Sebastian.

  “I just mean, there must be a part of you that knows how lucky you are to have a mom who really sees you and can deal with who you are.”

  “You don’t have that?” he asked.

  “I didn’t mean that. I just … I don’t know.”

  “You don’t have that?” he asked again.

  “No, I guess I don’t.” Dammit, how did he do that? He made me talk. Whatever feelings were coming up, I didn’t want them. I wanted to push them back down.

  “Tell me. I want to know,” he said.

  The waiter came with our cheeseburgers. I ate a french fry before the plate even touched the table. Steam rose in swirls. We both took a moment to dress up our burgers, passing the ketchup back and forth. And then we took a bite at the same time, the taste of the warm burger making me realize just how hungry I was after running.

  “Tell me,” he said again.

  “No, it’s nothing. It’s just, what the hell am I complaining about? Like you said, my mom’s not so bad, even if we don’t get along that well, and my dad is great and works really hard to give us everything.”

  “But they don’t pay attention,” he said.

  “I’m not in one of your group sessions, Sebastian. This was about you. I was just trying to say that from an outsider’s perspective, I can see that your mom sent you there because she knew you were hurting yourself and she wanted to make you better. That’s what parents are supposed to do.”

  “But that’s not what your parents do,” he said.

  “Seriously? You’re turning this back on me again?”

  “Well,”
he said. “I think we’ve already determined that my parents are saints, right?”

  “Fine,” I said. “No. I think that if my mom suspected I was on drugs or unhappy—even if she knew it for a fact—she would just put her head in the sand and convince herself it wasn’t true so she wouldn’t have to do something hard like put me in a hospital and risk all her friends knowing that her daughter was a fuck-up.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sure your mom’s not embarrassed like mine would be.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I know it’s hard for my mom. Especially since she’s a nurse. I think it must be embarrassing for her, but she did it anyway. To save me, as you say. I never quite thought of her as a hero, but maybe I will now.” He tried to laugh but it came out as a snort. “Do you really think your mom wouldn’t do anything?”

  “Yes, I know it.”

  He reached across the table and took my hand. I pulled it away and looked around, suddenly very aware that Sebastian and I were in public.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t help it.”

  “It’s just, if someone saw.”

  “I know. I get it,” he said. But there was nothing I wanted more than to have Sebastian’s hand on mine. In fact, I looked at his lips and ached to kiss them. I put my head in my hands, so I wouldn’t have to look at him, to want him. I wondered if he’d thought about kissing me too.

  After we finished eating, he spoke quietly. “I know we haven’t known each other that long, but I’ve noticed.”

  “You’ve noticed what?” I asked.

  “I’ve noticed you. I’ve noticed that there’s something that hurts you. Even if your mom and dad haven’t, I have.”

  I swallowed hard. Sebastian saw something in me that no one else did, and it was the real me. I felt like he was looking right through me, and I loved it and hated it at the same time. I felt the sting of tears coming and took a few breaths to try to stop them.

  Sebastian got up, came around to my side of the table, and sat next to me in the booth.

  “I didn’t mean to make you sad.” He took my hand in his. His proximity made me feel warm all over, and I didn’t care anymore who saw us together.

  “It’s okay,” I said, clearing my throat. “I’m not sad. I’m just … I don’t know, confused I guess. I don’t usually think about stuff like this. I’m really good at not thinking about it. And you’re making me think, so I don’t know if that makes me like you or hate you.”

  He laughed and then just looked at me for a minute. “Are you busy tonight?”

  “Actually, I am,” I said, but I was so torn, wanting never to leave him.

  He was still smiling, but now it looked forced. He scooted out of the booth and went back to his side.

  “That’s cool,” he said. “I was just thinking about a movie, maybe.”

  “I would love to. But I have to go to dinner.”

  “With Chris?” he asked, putting his elbows on the table.

  “With his family.”

  He rubbed his forehead. “Trying to erase the image,” he said, smiling sadly.

  I felt a moment of exhilaration now that I knew for sure he wanted to be with me, and then an immediate crash when the hopeless reality of our situation hit me.

  “Sebastian …” I said.

  “I know,” he said. “Let’s not talk about it.”

  “Maybe we should, though.”

  He shook his head. He looked at the check, started pulling money out of his pocket, so I did the same.

  After we paid, we went outside.

  “Thanks for that,” I said. “The run, everything.”

  “Sure.” I could feel the distance building.

  He stopped as we got closer to my car. I took a few more steps, but he stayed put.

  “I’ll drive you home,” I said.

  “I’ll walk.”

  He turned away and pulled earbuds out of his shorts pocket.

  “What’s going on here?” I asked.

  “Huh?” He turned slightly but didn’t look at me.

  I didn’t feel like playing games. From the minute Sebastian and I started talking that night at Rebecca’s, everything between us had been so honest. This wasn’t going to work for me.

  “I mean, what’s going on? Chris came up, and now you’re like this. I’m not the only one who’s got something making this not happen,” I said, gesturing back and forth between us.

  “In your case, you mean someone,” he said. He flicked his eyes up to mine for a second and then back down to the earbuds, which he was slowly untangling.

  I shook my head back and forth. Was he expecting me to break up with my boyfriend for him when he wasn’t willing to be with me anyway? Screw that.

  “See ya,” I said. I got in my car.

  “Hold on,” he said as I slammed my door closed, but I pretended not to hear him. I started the car and put it in drive.

  As I pulled out of the parking spot, I watched him walk the other way, shoulders sloping. I drove toward home.

  My phone buzzed and for a second I thought it might be him. But it was Rebecca.

  REBECCA: Where r u?

  I irresponsibly texted back while driving.

  ME: Driving home.

  One second later, my phone rang. It was her.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Hi. What are you up to?”

  “I was hanging out with Sebastian.”

  Silence.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I just don’t get it.”

  She wasn’t helping with my mood.

  “Why do you want to get involved with him? He’s messed up, Macy. Serious baggage. And what about Chris?”

  I sighed, annoyed. “It’s not like that. It has nothing to do with Chris. And he’s not messed up. He’s out of the hospital now.”

  “And?”

  “We just have this connection. As friends.”

  If Rebecca weren’t so against the idea of my hanging out with Sebastian, I might have told her what had just happened, asked for her interpretation—whether I screwed up by calling him out on the way he’d acted. But it would just add to her case against him.

  “Okay,” she said. “I just don’t want you to get dragged down. You have enough anger in you, you crazy whore. You don’t need someone else’s shit. Plus, I think Chris is wigging out,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Cody asked me about Sebastian last night. Wanted to know if you guys were friends and what the deal was. It felt like research.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing, whatever. That maybe you felt sorry for him or something. Just be careful.”

  I’d have to mention to Chris that I’d hung out with Sebastian today—make sure he didn’t hear it from someone else. I didn’t want him getting suspicious or jealous. And then I had some serious thinking to do. How could I stay with Chris if I was feeling this way about Sebastian, even if Sebastian couldn’t be with me? But the thought of losing Chris, his friendship, and his family made me feel horrible.

  “Anyway, back to me now,” Rebecca said. “Cody’s dicking me around.”

  “I thought things were going well,” I said.

  Cody had been a good boy—calling, e-mailing, texting.

  “They were. But now not.”

  I groaned.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Are my little problems too annoying for you?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” I said. “Where’s the bitch-fest coming from? I’m just pissed at Cody for screwing with you again.”

  “Sorry. I’m feeling a little sensitive.”

  “A little?”

  “Can you come over?” she asked, pathetically.

  I looked at the clock. 4:32 p.m.

  “For a few minutes,” I said. “I have to get home and shower, though.”

  Since I’d pa
ssed her street already, I took a U-turn and headed back toward her house. I parked and ran up the porch steps, two at a time, and pushed open the never-locked door. She was lying on the couch watching Scooby Doo.

  “Seriously?” I grabbed the remote from the table and turned off the TV.

  “It’s the one with the Miner 49er ghost. It’s a classic.”

  I sat down next to her and she gasped as she took in my attempt at running-wear, the Star Wars baseball cap.

  “What the hell?” she asked.

  “We went running. Did you know he was on the cross-country team?”

  “Sebastian?”

  I nodded.

  “No, I didn’t know. But did you go to Salvation Army first for an outfit?”

  I plopped down on the couch next to her.

  “You couldn’t find something better than that? You couldn’t go in your mom’s closet for something? Well, at least I don’t have to worry about Sebastian wanting to get in your pants, because you look like a freak.”

  “Is there a reason I came over here? Because the verbal abuse I’m getting isn’t really much of a draw,” I said.

  “Wait, running?”

  “Yes, running,” I said. “And actually, I kind of liked it.”

  Rebecca stared at me. “Who are you? Where’s Macy?”

  “What’s the deal with Cody?”

  “You’re different. Are you in love?” She said love with like, ten syllables.

  “No. I went running with him, and I liked it. It was a good feeling. You should try it sometime,” I said.

  She stared at me again and shook her head.

  “Anyhoo,” she said. “I haven’t heard from Cody since last night.”

  “It’s only four forty-five,” I said.

  “But usually when we’re on, we’re on, you know?”

  “Did you call him?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “Well, maybe once, and maybe a text or two.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “What?” she said. “I’m sorry I can’t be all cool, I don’t give a shit about anyone or whether they like me, like you.”

  “Have you moved at all from this couch?”

  “I went to the freezer,” she said, pointing at a pint of mint chocolate chip on the coffee table.

  “Hmmm,” I said, taking her spoon and digging out some melty bright green ice cream. The combination of the cold and mint burned my tongue. “It’s so lame that he’s screwing with you.”