Page 8 - My FlipBook

has felt like something physiological has happened to her:
her top layer of skin has fused with her body’s chi, or what-
ever that energy is called that is always supposed to be flow-
ing just under the skin, and it has hardened like a coating.
I am bitter and brittle, and this is my new life, she thinks.
She digs the fingernails of her left hand into her left
cheek, which she does now and then, just to see if she still
has any feeling left in her skin. Is she pressing hard? Does
it hurt? She can’t tell.
A shiver runs through her. There is no wind, but the
cold is intensifying.

OLIVIA: Everything is hard. Going to sleep is hard. Waking
up is hard. School is . . . fucking impossible. I couldn’t go
today. I went to Crimmson’s Café.

A sudden image comes to Olivia. She is sitting on
her bed and Lacy is tucked into her own bed, listening
through the curtain. Just as the image begins to comfort
her, it dissolves.

OLIVIA: I sat at the table you like, the one outside, even though
it was kind of cold. And I ordered your favorite . . . cinna-
mon crumb cake. I bet you didn’t think I remembered.

Olivia laughs, but it comes out choked. Lacy holds
her breath.

OLIVIA: It was the waitress with the big hair. Remember when
we went there with Mom on Valentine’s Day and that song
came on the restaurant’s playlist and the three of us started

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