Page 16 of Retrofit Analysis

It felt daring to break city ordinances about parks closing at dusk, and it felt good to kiss each other in the open air, our warm bodies pressed together, so young and curious.

Sitting on my sofa, alone in my house, I realize that my body has once again responded to thoughts of Elizabeth Burns. I move my computer to the side and look down at my pants. My own body has become a stranger to me in this way, like maybe it’s somebody else’s erection throbbing and twitching in my lap.

Swallowing, I close my eyes and reach into my sweats. I gasp as I touch myself, my skin hot. My breath quickens as I pull up the memories of those makeout sessions with Beth. I recall how young we felt, how alive. The thrill of pleasure, still new to us as teenagers. My hand closes around my cock as I remember sliding my palm up Elizabeth’s shirt, my tongue plunging into her mouth.

I remember her breathy gasps as I pinched her nipples. She didn’t even wear a bra back then, and I didn’t know enough to realize how sexy that was. My hand moves faster, fist clenching tighter, pressure mounting. I start to wonder if she wears one now, imagining her body in black lace, bare for me. Here in my house.

I shudder and my abs clench as I come on my chest, gulping for air as the orgasm rushes over me like a tidal wave. I look down at my sticky hand in surprise, knowing I’ll repeat this action again and wondering if Beth ever does this same thing.

Thirteen

Elizabeth

I’m definitely limping. I see Lisa looking at me sideways and wince. The two of us usually power walk laps around the block while our boys are in chess club. I asked Jake if he still wanted to participate since we don’t live up this way anymore, but he looked at me like I’d just killed his puppy or something. Shows what I know about teenagers.

Lisa takes a swig from her water bottle. “Why in the hell are you walking like that,” she asks, seeming concerned. It’s been a few weeks since I brought the treadmill home. Between Jake starting his new high school and Todd being an asshole and my growing frustration at not having a job, I’ve been pounding out a lot of miles on that thing.

And it would seem you get what you pay for.

I choose not to tell Lisa I trash picked a shitty foot-breaker. “I’ve been running in bad shoes,” I tell her. “I think.” We sit on a bench and I pull off my sandal, rubbing my foot. “It usually only really hurts in the evening once I lie down.”

Lisa nods. “You need to see Ashish.” I roll my eyes. Lisa’s husband is an orthopedic surgeon who works with professional athletes.

“Ashish? Really? For a sore foot? I just need some Advil,” I tell her, pulling up my purse and searching around for some. Ashish probably books out months in advance unless you’re a hockey player.

“At least let me asks him who he thinks you should see?” She already has her phone out and is calling. He answers immediately. I love that about them. Even this high profile surgeon answers her calls unless he’s in the O.R. Even if she’s just calling to tell him she’s overwhelmed with the boys. My thoughts drift back to Kellen, the way he’s been showing Jake how to use the lawn mower and weed whacker, so patiently. I bet he’d answer if I called upset about Jake, I think.

Todd used to chastise me, even if I was calling to say we were headed to the emergency room because Jake smashed his hand in the ball return at the bowling alley when he got too excited studying how it worked.

I chew on my cheek, rubbing my foot, while Lisa chats with Ashish. “Did you eat dinner,” she asks him. It’ll be past eight til she gets home after the boys are finished. I hope to be in bed with a painkiller by then. Okay, so the foot is pretty bad, I concede, mentally.

“He wants to talk to you.” Lisa waves the phone in my face and I sigh, taking it from her. A few seconds later, he texts me an appointment time with a podiatrist he’s friends with. “He’s going to fit you in tomorrow,” Ashish says. “You’re too important to be crippled by a foot injury, Elizabeth. Your feet withstand hundreds of pounds of pressure every step. The bones and tendons form an intricate network. It can be very debilitating if something gets left untreated.”

“Yes, doctor,” I sigh, feeling a little petulant. I’m definitely not accustomed to prioritizing my health, which is part of the reason getting the treadmill felt so delicious. It was such a great idea to take care of me! And now I messed all that up by walking too much or wearing the wrong shoes or…something. By the time we hang up, Lisa has somehow procured milkshakes from one of the nearby shops. She passes me one and we spread out on the bench outside the library, waiting for the kids to burst out yelling about strategy.

“It’s good you got a treadmill,” Lisa says. “That shows you’re ready to start doing more things for you.”

I nod. “I realized I’m not going to feel comfortable leaving Jake to go and exercise. Not yet, anyway. Even though he’s doing great. But if I had something at home, I figured I’d do something good for my body.”

“I love it! I’m inspired. Let’s get your foot better and make a plan to do more movement things together.”

“I’d like that!” And I mean it. We can drag our kids with us, or Jake feels comfortable at Lisa’s place if Ashish is around to keep an eye on them. I hear the library door open and I stand to greet Jake, wincing again. “Yeah,” I say. “I’m also glad you’re making me talk to a foot doctor.”

The next afternoon, I slip into sweats in case I need to get undressed for X-rays or something. I pull into the parking lot of the podiatrist’s office, happy my friend recommended a place just outside the city where parking isn’t as much of an issue. Everything hurts worse today and I’m not sure how I’d make it if I had to park a few blocks away!

It seems like the waiting room is full of old people. I’m no spring chicken, but these are bonafide old people with pouffy hair and canes and compression socks. Oh god, what if I have to start wearing compression socks?

Eventually I get called back and Dr. Sam has me hop up on his exam table. As I explain what’s happening he holds up a hand. “Let me guess,” he says. “Hurts worse at night? Sort of throbs all the time?” I nod. He nods. “I see it all the time with postmenopausal women.”

I feel a lump form in my throat. Does it even count as menopause if it’s surgically induced from a hysterectomy? Dr. Sam continues, explaining that the loss of estrogen lowers bone density in the feet. “I can’t tell you how many women your age I see with stress fractures,” he says.

“Wait. Fracture?”

He nods. “Oh yeah. I’d bet my farm on it. I don’t really have a farm, but you catch my meaning.” He gestures for me to lift my foot and he starts poking around. “We’ll do an X-ray to be sure,” he says, “but I’m putting in orders for a walking boot and I’ll have one of my assistants get you fitted after we read the X-rays.”

Within a half hour, I’m thunking around the waiting room in a huge black walking boot, wondering how in the hell I’m going to get my car home. Because guess what? I can’t drive. Todd is going to love hearing this. I’m so irritated that I almost don’t notice Kellen Brady standing at the desk, asking a question about a big white and blue splint-looking device.

He turns toward me and beams. “Beth,” he says. Then he looks down and frowns. “Not you, too?”