Page 16 of All the Right Moves
“Why not?” I ask. “What’s wrong with me?”
She rolls her eyes. “Nothing is wrong with you. I just don’t think it would be a good match.”
I don’t know why, but I feel offended. “So, if I wanted to go out with him, you’d be adamantly against it?”
“No, Jenna, I don’t care who you date.”
“Then, why would you bring it up?” I shriek.
“I didn’t! You brought it up!”
“Whatever,” I grumble under my breath.
“Alright, I can see that we aren’t getting anywhere, and you should probably be alone.”
Thank you.
She adds, “Do you want me to help you take a shower before I leave?”
“No, Momma. I’ve got it.”
“Alright. Don’t forget to wrap your cast.” She says it like I haven’t had this stupid thing on for three weeks now.
In an attempt to wrap this conversation up, I simply nod.
Two minutes later, she’s gathered up her stuff and is out the door.
And I’m all alone once again. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. There was no reason for me to act like that toward my momma.
Crazy person: party of one.
I sounded insane. Ultimately, I know she’s just trying to help, but that’s part of the problem, I think. I’ve always been relatively independent. Growing up with three brothers taught me how to hold my own. Then, I knew there wouldn’t be a lot of money for me to go to college, so I worked my ass off to make sure I was good enough at something to get a scholarship.
Help is not easy for me to ask for, even when Momma shows up freely offering it. Instead, my defenses automatically shoot up.
Guilt hits me hard, and I know that I will call her and apologize later on. And maybe we can come up with a new way for her to be helpful that won’t make me lose my mind. I don’t know if that’s possible, but it’s worth a shot.
Needing to use the restroom, I grab my crutches and hoist myself up off the couch.
When I’m finished doing my business, I hop over to the sink to wash my hands. When I catch a glimpse in the mirror, I’m mortified. Did I really look this bad when I was talking to Shane earlier?
Good grief, I look like I would turn someone to stone if they looked into my eyes. Momma was right. I need to take a shower—no matter how much of a pain in the ass it is.
Slowly but surely, I make my way into the kitchen to grab a trash bag and some duct tape. I wrap the entire cast with the bag and tape it to ensure no water can get in as carefully as I can.
After I finally finish, I head back to the bathroom and undress. As I wait for the water to warm up, I turn on some music on my phone and set it on the closed toilet right outside of the shower.
When the water is where I want it, I step in and let it run over my body. I won’t admit it to her, but Momma was right. I’m already feeling some better. It’s as though I’m washing some of my negative energy away.
Just when that thought crosses my mind, though, I try to move my weight-bearing foot, and it slips right out from under me. My head hits the corner of the faucet as I fall, and before I know it, I’m lying in a heap on the floor.
I can sit up, but every time I attempt to stand, I can’t get my footing.
Pulling back the shower curtain, I reach out and dry my hands on the towel I laid out before grabbing my phone.
Icouldcall Momma, but that would mean admitting I was wrong, and I’m sure as shit not ready to do that.
Instead, I call Jonas. He’s closer anyway.