Brain Damage

by Freida McFadden

“Listen, Angela,” Alex says. “If somebody cared about me enough to get me some water, I wouldn’t start thinking about it too much and wondering how it would work out. I would just take the water, you know what I’m saying?” “You’re saying that I should let him help me,” Angela acknowledges. “No!” Alex barks at her. “I’m saying that nobody cares about me enough to get me some goddamn water!”

I’m sure if you gave Valerie a choice between dressing me and dressing a corpse, she’d pick the corpse.

Jamie is quiet for a minute before he lifts his eyes to meet mine. The flush in his ears enters his cheeks. “She’s beautiful,” he says.

“I used to be pretty good at baseball. I’m pretty sure if I swing this at your face, I could break your jaw.”

I’m sure that Jamie is going to swing his cane square into Clark’s handsome face. And you know what? I really want him to do it. I want him to shatter that perfect jaw. I want his jaw to be wired shut so that he can never smirk at me again.

Goodbye, Jamie. Thank you for being my friend when I didn’t even know who I was. Thank you for turning my tray around during meals. Thank you for making me feel attractive again, even if it was just for a short time. Thank you for saving my goddamn life, whatever it’s worth. Thank you and goodbye forever.

“I was in a haze after I hurt myself,” he says, shaking his head. “Everything was so disjointed, I couldn’t focus on anything. And then one day, I looked up and I saw the most beautiful violet eyes I’d ever seen in my

life. And it was like everything got clear all of a sudden.” He coughed and cleared his throat. “You cured me, Charly.”

“You don’t look terrible,” she insists. “You just look like… you’re going to go out and play in a game of football.”

I’ve got enough problems without having to use a bariatric wheelchair.

Anyway, all told, considering I was shot in the head, I think I look pretty damn good.

If I can get over being shot in the head, I can get over anything.