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Mina rolls with it, giving me an exaggerated, exhausted sigh. Thank god. I’m pretty good at destroying awkward moments—usually ones I caused in the first place—but I’m not sure I can top my efforts from this morning. Dressing like Mina, with the robe and slippers and towel on my head, hopefully erased my masturbation misfire from her memory.
Not from mine, unfortunately. I groan as I walk into the kitchen for a glass of water. The first bit of self-love since the accident, and I can’t believe I hit myself in the face when she walked in on me. I was too stunned, too deep in the fantasy for my hand to catch up with the situation, and now I’m going to be hearing her laugh every time I get my dick out.
Not exactly the reaction I want. Laughter belongs in sex, but not the first sexual encounter. Not that last night counts as a sexual encounter. Maybe a sexual encounter of the first kind? Isn’t that look but don’t touch? The third kind is anal probes? Or abduction? Maybe there isn’t a one-to-one between alien encounters and sexual encounters. Pretty sure one of the many audiobooks Dad downloaded for me—since screens give me a headache—addresses this…
It’s making my head hurt, so I let it go. I have to go see the doctor in a couple of hours and I need to look recovered.
I don’t feel it. The headaches aren’t as bad, but I’m exhausted. Fake it till I make it isn’t working yet, and I’m afraid it might never work. I might never be okay. Having the doctor confirm these fears are grounded in reality is the last thing I want.
Mina’s on the couch when I finish my water. She has a towel under her foot and she’s painting her toenails a bright, cheery blue. I sit a full cushion away from her, propping my feet on one of her plastic tubs of underwear.
I fall asleep and wake up with blue toenails. Leaning my head back against the couch, I wiggle my toes and laugh. Seriously, building walls is not working out for me. Why did I ever think I could build them in the first place? I couldn’t build shit with Lego as a kid, so it’s no wonder my walls are wobbly and hole-ridden.
I love this woman more today than I did when I asked her to marry me. Walls aren’t going to change that.
Mina comes downstairs and warmth spreads over my skin when she smiles at me. I love being the center of her attention. I’d do anything to stay in it.
“Ready in five?” she asks.
Shit. Doctor time.
The staples come out, and the doctor doesn’t have some magical power to see inside me. Well, she does with CT scans and MRIs, but she determines I’m progressing fine and since things looked good inside my head when I was discharged, we can forgo the peek inside today.
I don’t ask her if I’m ever going to be myself again because I don’t want to put my hope into cardiac arrest.
Mina, though…
She slaps a notebook on the doctor’s desk and holy shit. I grab it before the doctor can, but Mina must have it memorized. She lists off all her concerns while I read through the daily log of what I’ve been doing.
According to her, I’m sleeping a lot—although she doesn’t know that several of those hours have been dedicated to intense sulking because I’ve done it in the privacy of my room. What she does know is detailed. What I’ve eaten, how my mood appears to her, guesses at the intensity of my headaches plus my assessment of them, if I gave one.
I skip ahead to last night and thank god she omitted me jerking off. Nohe hit himself in the chin with an above-average load.
The doctor is looking at me when I set the notebook back on the desk. “Rest is important,” she’s saying to Mina, “But I agree with you. Isolation won’t help. Have some people over for dinner or a quiet activity.”
“What about sex?” I ask abruptly.
The doctor flips through Mina’s notebook. “There’s nothing to indicate you can’t slowly and gradually ease into more physical activity. Maybe start with short walks around the neighborhood, stopping if it makes your head hurt before you jump into group sex.”
I laugh.
Mina squirms. “He didn’t mean—”
“No, no,” I interrupt. “I was wondering if dinner parties could lead to orgies, and now I know.”
Mina gives me a dirty look—and not the fun kind—but I catch the twitch in her lips. She’s trying not to laugh.
After the appointment, as we’re walking to Mina’s car, she nudges my arm. “Why don’t we invite Danny over for dinner this weekend?”
My stomach dives. I like Danny, but I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to see anyone except Mina and Nic. “Why don’t I take you out somewhere nice instead?” I ask, trying to sound casual. “I’ll buy you another Mioe dress.” This time, I nudge her with my elbow. “You can pick it out.”
Mina doesn’t take the bait. “Why don’t you want to see Danny?”
“He’s a bit loud. Noise sets off my headaches. Not your sewing machines,” I add quickly when she rounds on me. “They don’t bother me.”
Her lips press together. “Someone else then?” she asks.
“Nic?” I offer up as we reach her car. “Bonus, he can cook us dinner and we don’t have to go out.”
