A Thousand Reasons

by Mariah Dietz

  “I don’t know. I might take the day off and just rest it. I haven’t taken a sick day in too long.”

  “So much for it being fine.” There’s sarcasm in Max’s voice. “All right, but call if you need anything.”

  “I will.”

  I slide my phone into the pocket of my mesh shorts. Without the distraction of my call with Max, the throbbing in my foot becomes more prominent and demanding. I head to the kitchen where I pull open the freezer and rummage around inside. I barely eat here, and because I’m not prone to injuries, I don’t have any ice packs, but I find a frozen bag of frozen peas which I pluck free. Not thinking, I use my raised foot to kick the bottom freezer drawer closed, and instantly regret the decision. The throbbing becomes a sharp, stabbing pain that leaves me gritting my teeth.

  I limp back to my room and set the frozen bag of peas atop a pillow. I’m still unsure if it’s my heel, foot, or ankle that I’ve injured, so I attempt to position the makeshift ice pack so it will touch my ankle and heel. My bed drops as I take a seat on the edge, and suddenly I feel uncertain about the stability of everything. I push myself farther back and then proceed to lift my injured foot which sends an even more severe wave of pain. My pillows are bunched, and I’m too high to lie comfortably, but I don’t care as long as I don’t have to move my foot again.

  The pain recedes like waking from a nightmare—initially consuming and slowly fading into a memory that leaves me wondering if it was really as bad as it had seemed. I flip through TV channels, periodically glancing at the clock. Being still has never been easy for me, especially when I know I’m missing classes where my attendance will be a factor. I grab my phone, searching for a distraction, and scroll to my brief train of texts from Leela.

  Me: You jinxed me.

  She responds almost immediately.

  Leela: With what?

  Me: I twisted my ankle.

  Leela: Oh no! Are you okay?

  Leela: I don’t understand how did I jinxed you, though?

  Me: You asked if I went running every day.

  Leela: I’m going to go buy a lottery ticket. Please hold.

  Me: I’m not sure if premonitions work the same as jinxes.

  Leela: Ha! Maybe I should open a voodoo shop…

  Leela: You didn’t say how you’re doing. Is your ankle okay?

  Me: I’m sure it’s fine. Likely a sprain.

  Leela: I’ll give you a diagnosis before class ;)

  I bolt upright. It’s Monday. I see Leela on Mondays! My feet hit the floor, and the pain isn’t as intense.

  Me: You’ll be kind to my ego and tell me it looks awful even though it doesn’t, right?

  Leela: No promises, but, you have seen me at my worst, so I do owe you…

  Me: Forget my ego. I’ll wait to cash this in later ☺

  Leela: I’ll see you at class, Wes.

  I read the text, hearing her voice saying my name. The pain diminishes even further.

  An hour later I’m ready, my book bag in hand and a pep in my step as I consider places to take Leela on a first date that won’t make it seem like I’m trying too hard or make her feel uncomfortable, since money seems to be a trigger for her. The stairs are a breeze, convincing me that the pain was a mirage or maybe I just didn’t have the right motivation to stop focusing on it. I swing open the door of my truck and the moment my weight shifts to the toes of my left foot, I begin to lose my balance. I grip my steering wheel for support, swearing as the sharp pain hits me with vengeance.

  “Son of a bitch!” I mutter, struggling to ease myself into the cab of my truck. “Don’t be my damn Achilles. Don’t be my damn Achilles,” I chant.

  The pain ebbs as I near campus, and by the time I park, it’s nearly gone once more. I slide out of my truck without a problem, and only feel mild discomfort on the route that takes me to my first class.

  “Wes!” Max yells my name, waving a hand in the air to catch my attention, Ace at his side. The two walk toward me, and I work to match their pace. “I thought you weren’t coming?”

  “I’m feeling better.”

  “It doesn’t look better.” Max’s focus is on my leg.

  “It looks painful,” Ace says.

  “It looks worse than it feels.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “I hope so.” With a wince, she turns to Max. “I’ll see you around five?”

  He nods, then bends to kiss her. The simple act makes me feel uneasy, though I’ve witnessed them kiss hundreds of times. Perhaps it’s having Leela on my mind or the fact I haven’t dated anyone in nearly a year.

  “See you later,” Ace says, turning her attention to me. “And not to sound like your mom, but you should consider seeing a doctor. It looks pretty serious.”

  I scoff. “It’ll be okay.”

  She smirks, clearly not believing me, then heads toward the parking lot while Max and I continue to class.

  “You’re not limping as much,” he says.

  “I told you, it’s fine.”

  “Are you coming to class today to see a certain redhead?” His eyebrows arch.

  “She offered to give me a diagnosis. I’m considering where else I might be feeling pain.”

  Max throws his head back and laughs. “I’m sure you are.”

  Inside the classroom, I pause, staring at the shallow set of stairs. I glance up to see if Leela has made it already, and find her sitting in her same seat and smiling at me. I gulp. If I eat it while trying to walk up to the top row, she’s going to think I’m pathetic. I grip the banister, and Max eyes me.

  “Fine, huh?”

  I ignore him, using the banister to help support my weight as we climb to the top. Leela’s smile has fallen into a straight line, her light green eyes scanning my leg. I should have worn pants to help cover the bruising and swelling, but it’s been so damn hot, I couldn’t force myself into a pair.

  “It’s your Achilles,” she says factually.

  I shake my head, her words tickling my thoughts. “It’s just a rolled ankle. Maybe a sprain.”

  Leela shakes her head gently. “It’s your Achilles,” she says again.

  “If it were ruptured, I wouldn’t be able to—”

  “Climb stairs easily or go on your toes. And you’d have a lot of swelling right here…” She points to the lower portion of my calf. “Right where you’re swollen. And you’re probably hearing clicking noises and feeling a dull pain like something keeps hitting you in the back of the foot.” She nods without waiting for my reply. “It’s ruptured.”

  “It can’t be…”

  “Shit,” Max says. “You should go in. They have to repair those pretty quick after an injury in order to heal correctly. I had an old coach who ruptured his and didn’t get it fixed for months, and he limped afterward.”

  I’m prepared to protest again when Leela interjects. “Yeah. You definitely need to see a doctor.”

  “I’m not going to the doctor. You guys are crazy.”

  Leela sits forward in her chair. “You need to go. Truly. It might just be partially ruptured, and if so, they might not have to do surgery, but Max is right. If it does need surgery, you’ll need to do it soon in order for it to heal properly.”

  I look to Max, hoping to see him smirking and making jokes about how I’m going to be fine and how he wouldn’t go either, but he’s stoic, his lips turned down with sympathy.

  Shit.

  I turn to Leela. “I think you’re wrong. But, I’ll make you a deal. If I go see a doctor, you’ll go to lunch with me one day this week.”

  Her lips tip with a smile. “You want to make me accountable for a lifelong limp?”

  “He’s stubborn, Leela,” Max says. “You need to say yes, otherwise, he really won’t go.”

  “He has a ruptured Achilles.” Her smile fades and her eyes round. “It would be completely stupid to not go.”

  “I’ve done way dumber things.” I flash a smile.

  “I can attest to that,” Max adds.

&nbs
p; She looks between us, shaking her head. “You’re crazy.”

  “What day looks best for you?” I ask.

  “I have school and work and…” Her protests end with a shy smile, her cheeks flushing. “Okay,” she says.

  I grin, likely too wide to look cool.

  “But for the record,” Leela says. “I would have said yes without the dramatics. In fact, I prefer less drama.”

  Professor Kline steps to the front of the class, silencing the room before I can reply.

  When class ends, Leela is slow to put her things away and slower to look at me for a cue.

  “You good?” Max asks, standing from his seat.

  I nod. “I’ll catch up with you later.” He nods before saying good-bye to Leela and jogging down the steps.

  “Want to grab some coffee? Or do you want something to eat? Or what sounds good?”

  “Now?” Leela’s voice is raised with surprise.

  I shrug. “Why not?”

  “I have another class soon.” She looks around the class that’s quickly emptying. “Want to just go sit outside on one of the benches?”

  It’s so simple, and yet so far from my norm. “Sure,” I say, standing and grabbing my bag.

  Leela has to walk a few steps in front of me because I can’t recall where any benches on campus are. She walks toward a large green space, turning to look over her shoulder at me a couple of times, her eyes wide with question and nerves that has her lips tipping into a smile that continuously grows and shrinks like she can’t decide if it’s the appropriate expression. “How was your weekend? I mean…” She wrings her hands. “How was the rest of your weekend?”

  “It was good. How was yours?”

  Leela smiles, her gaze falling as though embarrassed. “I want to talk to you about … everything I said…” She takes a deep breath. “I was so far out of line Saturday, and I really want to apologize. I … I don’t know how to be around you. I don’t think you fully understand just how vastly different our lives are, and while I did an absolutely appalling job of trying to explain that to you, it doesn’t change things.”

  “Change what things? Change me liking you or you liking me?”

  “My family is depending on me. I’ve been preparing for med school since I was a kid. This is my dream. And in order to achieve this, I have to work—a lot. So you’re right, time is definitely going to be an obstacle, but I don’t think you fully realize that even without time being a constraint, our lives are so different.”

  “So, you’re saying that even if we get along great, have similar goals, and are attracted to each other, we shouldn’t spend time together because my parents make more money than yours?”

  “No. No. No. No. Of course not!”

  “Then why are you so opposed to this? To us?”

  Leela looks at me, her eyes searching mine for an understanding she won’t find. Releasing a deep sigh, she looks at her hands and begins picking at her fingernails. “I’ve never been camping. I’ve never been outside of Southern California. I’ve never been on a plane or a train, never bought a pair of clothes for full price.” Leela looks up, her eyes pinch at the outer corners like she’s ashamed of admitting this to me.

  “You think that’s going to change the way I see you?”

  “It should,” she says, her voice growing stronger and louder as her eyes round. “And I don’t work for a doctor’s office. I have a ton of under the table jobs and a part-time job at a discount store and a sandwich shop.” She stares at me, pausing so the fact can seep in. “My list of things I’ve never done is far longer than the one of what I have. You’re cultured and smart and handsome and the world is at your fingertips, and sometimes, I feel like I’m barely holding on by my fingertips.”

  “Did you just admit that you’re attracted to me?”

  Leela rolls her eyes. “Tell me that’s not all you just heard!”

  I chuckle, leaning back on the bench, my hands falling loosely between my legs. “I think you’re making this way more complicated than it needs to be. Just because we spend some time discovering what this might be, doesn’t mean we’re signing a lifelong pact or signing away our firstborn to the other. We’re saying let’s take it one day at a time.”

  “After all the drama I’ve put you through in a week, you’re still willing to try?”

  “If I’ve learned anything from my best friends, it is that relationships rarely begin smoothly. I think if this is the turmoil we face to be together, we just might deserve a gold star.”

  She laughs so hard she sits forward in her seat. Leela’s nose crinkles, and the corners of her eyes pinch again, exposing her first genuine laugh. I watch her, memorizing each detail of her until she sits back, a smile tugging her lips into a smirk. “I don’t know how you don’t think I’m crazy after Saturday.”

  “I didn’t say that I don’t.”

  Her jaw drops, and one of her hands forms a tightly balled fist which she raises and weakly shakes, making me laugh.

  “Don’t be offended, I kind of like your brand of crazy.”

  She shakes her head, but her lips are still tipped upward. Then her eyes widen and her lips fall. “Do your friends all hate me?”

  I shake my head. “You’ll see very quickly that they’re pretty accepting.”

  Her shoulders fall with relief, and I realize that question meant more than I’d realized.

  “I have a study group tonight, and tomorrow I have a class in the evening but nothing in the morning. What about you?”

  Leela releases a deep breath and looks skyward. “I have two tutoring sessions tonight, and tomorrow, Wednesday, and Friday I have to work, and Thursday I have classes pretty much all day.”

  “So that leaves March first?”

  She laughs, and I chuckle, enjoying her in this more relaxed state.

  “I told you this was going to be nearly impossible,” she says. “I warned you.”

  She had and it makes me even more determined. “What time do you work on Wednesday?”

  “I have classes at ten, noon, and two and then I have to be at work by five.”

  “Okay. Well, we’ll fit something in after your noon class. We’ll do lunch.”

  “I’ll only have like an hour.” She frowns, looking disappointed.

  I shrug. “An hour’s better than nothing.”

  She looks at me, skepticism narrowing her eyes.

  “What?” I ask.

  “You’re crazy.”

  “It’s not a big deal.”

  Leela’s eyebrows arch. “It is a big deal, and the fact that you don’t think it is makes it an even bigger deal.”

  I stand, knowing our time is running out, and offer a smile when her eyes go from doubt to concern. “You should probably get going to class,” I explain.

  She glances at her phone and her eyes widen as she darts up.

  “Wednesday,” I remind her.

  Nodding, Leela looks over me once again, her expression unfamiliar, as she takes two steps closer to me, and then stops.

  “Are there any foods you don’t like?” I ask.

  Leela shakes her head, and then stops and shrugs. “Sardines.”

  “Any special requests?”

  She shakes her head again and takes another step so there are only inches separating us. I wonder if she is trying to kiss me or wants me to kiss her. My mind is spinning, trying to recall what a first kiss feels like and how long they last when not induced by alcohol and the intent of a one-night stand when she leans up on her toes, placing a hand on my chest. My heart pounds like a flooded car engine as the scent of Leela fills my thoughts. I want to bottle the scent so I can get high off the aroma, but more than that, I want to lick the column of her neck and see if it will transfer to taste so I can dissect each note and detail of the flavors.

  “Please be real,” she whispers, and then falls back on her heels, and walks away.

  “What?” I call, my entire body buzzed from having expecting her to kiss me and shoc
ked by how disappointed I feel that she didn’t.

  She looks over her shoulder, her eyes turned down as though she’s sad, but she smiles and waves before crossing one of the walkways and disappearing into a building.

  18

  Leela

  “Why do you look so nervous? You got a test or something?”

  I catch Luna in the reflection of the small mirror I’m standing in front of, trying to get ready before I have to leave. “I’m not.”

  “You are. You’ve changed your clothes three times, and your lipstick twice.”

  “Why don’t you pay attention to something other than what I’m doing? Like maybe school or your chores or finding a pair of shorts that cover your ass cheeks.”

  She looks down at her denim shorts and before she has the chance to respond I add, “Your entire ass cheeks.”

  “You’re such a prude.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be looking for a job?”

  “Is this for that rich guy?”

  My eyes narrow as anger unfurls in my chest.

  “It is for him!” she cries.

  “Luna, stop!”

  “Dad is going to freak out when he finds out you’re dating a rich guy, even if you are being raised to be one of those elitist jerks.”

  “Oh my God. You sound so ignorant right now. Are you seriously hearing yourself? Getting an education doesn’t make me an elitist or a jerk. Being smart isn’t something I should be embarrassed or ashamed about, so I don’t know why you want to keep rubbing it in my face like I should be.”

  “I’d rather be trailer trash than a snob any day.”

  “Luna!” I cry, my patience withering.

  “You think you’re going to be something more to him? Something different?” She shakes her head. “Enjoy the attention while it lasts.”