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“Thanks.”
She laughs.
“Scottie. This stuff had to cost a lot. I’ll get you some cash.”
“Don’t. I’m not your level of wealthy, but I’ve lived a frugal life and saved almost everything.”
I lift an eyebrow. “What is my level of wealth?”
“Filthy.”
With an easy nod, I hum. “Filthy, huh? Sounds exorbitant.”
Her grin slides off her face, replaced with a tiny frown. “Why didn’t you do chemo?”
“Because what I have is a death sentence, and palliative chemotherapy can do more harm than good. I fell into a rabbit hole of stories from people who beat the odds by lifestyle and diet changes. And by beating the odds, I mean they lived longer than expected, and some are still alive. I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. It’s not death. I’m not afraid of dying, but I’m really fucking terrified of suffering. If staring death in the face isn’t life-changing, then I don’t know what is. So here I am … changing my life. And if I don’t live, I want to go out on my terms.”
Tears fill her eyes, but she manages to keep them from escaping. “Your parents have to be beside themselves.”
“They are. But there’s nothing they can do.”
“Well,” she says, putting on a brave face and blotting her eyes, “you’re going to live.”
“I am.”
“But let’s continue to tip the scale in your favor.” She goes through the supplements, healing stones, essential oils, flower essences, non-toxic deodorant, and other safe body products.
When she pulls out the enema bag, my eyes widen, but she ignores me. Scottie knows her stuff. She’s lived this life, and maybe that’s why she’s single. But I’d rather she honor her true self than bend to anyone.
“Dry brush before you shower. Make sure your strokes go in the direction of your heart. And you really should look into a sauna and red light therapy.”
I stand, jerking my head for her to follow me.
She grins when I show her my red light and sauna in the spare bedroom, along with my rebounder and meditation pillow. After scanning the room multiple times, she faces me. “You don’t have internet.”
I shake my head.
“No cell phone.”
She already knows this, but I affirm her statement anyway.
“Who are you?” she whispers through her grin. “An outcast?”
Scottie’s proud of me. And while I don’t need that from her, it’s still nice not to feel judged.
“I love you, Price. In a purely non-sexual way.”
I twist my lips for a few seconds. “I think outcasts rarely get laid anyway, so I’d expect you to love me in a purely non-sexual way.”
She rolls her eyes before pivoting and returning to the kitchen. “If you need to get laid, I can find you a nice girl.”
“Youmarrynice girls. You get laid by dirty girls.”
Her face flushes. “Fine. I’ll find you a dirty girl.”
“As dirty as you used to be?”
She curls her hair behind her ear and averts her gaze. “I was a virgin. You were the dirty older man who made me unclean.”
