Funny Feelings (66)

The water is a degree above tepid. Warm enough to slow the shivering, cool enough that it doesn’t sting the more raw parts of my skin. I keep my back to him as he takes down the shower head and directs its spray to blanket me. And I tell him about the entire night, beginning to end, every high note and low.

I lean my head back when he lathers soap in my hair, fingers stilling against my scalp when I get to the part about the woman.

“I felt like I had something to prove tonight. I think… I think I wanted to prove that I was okay, that I was good even without you. I went out there and was burning with it. And that entire room was with me, they were all loving it. And instead of enjoying it, I became fixated on one person’s negativity, Meyer. Why did I let one person get to me that way?”

I keep my eyes fixed to the ceiling while he rinses the soap out. I tell him he was right, that I never should’ve told that joke, and a few fresh tears spill down my temples.

He punches the water to off with a fist. “Fee… It would not have mattered if you didn’t utter a single bad word or had an entirely G-rated show. People like that will always find a way to be unhappy. All the warnings were there for them to look up. She knew what she was getting into. She had absolutely no right to physically assault you even if you had called her a nasty cunt to her face and told her to light herself on fire. No one. No one has the right to lay a hand on you.”

His tone turns to a growl at the end and I hear him huff out a breath in agitation. I nod once in acknowledgment.

“I’ll grab you something to wear to bed,” he mutters softly.

When I hear him return, I stand up and turn around, stepping into the towel he has up and waiting. I feel his gaze on my face like a brand, but can only bring mine to his throat, just as I see it stall on a swallow.

“I’ll give you a minute,” he says before he leaves. I look down at the shirt he’s handed me. One of his. Impossibly soft and large. A dog in a Hawaiian print shirt on the front of it. I put it to my face and inhale as best I can through my stuffy nose. I don’t think I’ll ever return it.

When I emerge he lifts his head from his hands. He’s sitting on the foot of the bed, hunched over with elbows planted on his thighs. I can trace the exhaustion in every line of his posture.

“My. I’m sorry, I’m sure you’re tired. You—” I swallow “—you can s-stay. Or you can go to your room if you don’t think you’ll be able to sleep.”

Something flickers across his face while his eyes stay transfixed near the hem of the shirt against my thighs. Something desperate.

“Fee. It makes me sick that I wasn’t there. I’m so sorry.”

“Meyer, don’t. It’s fine. It was… shocking. It sucked. I’m not trying to downplay it. But it did not kill me. It didn’t even seriously injure me. I just—“ I cross my arms and tuck my hands against my sides. “—I just need to keep it in perspective. Take a day or two. We have a few days before the next show anyway.” I smile weakly at him. “Maybe this will be the thing to finally help me kick the caffeine addiction.”

He groans. “Don’t, Fee. Please don’t fucking reduce this shit to a joke right now.”

“This is what I do, Meyer. It’s quite literally what I do. And I should be able to do it for myself sometimes if it’s what I can give other people, too. I was attacked. I’m not fucking stupid, I know what it was. I also know that I struck first using my own weapon and I don’t know what the fuck is going on in that woman’s life. I know that I purposefully worded things all for that shock-value laugh, and I knew it was a risk. I took it even further by pointing her out. I handed every ounce of my power over to one person, tonight, instead of doing my thing.” I blow out a breath. “It does not make it okay. But I’m standing here just fine. And I’ll dismantle this whole thing as much as I want until I reduce it to some story that I can make into a bit or use at parties. If I want to.”

He looks at me then, and stands. “What aren’t you telling me?”

I scoff. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I can tell that you are shaken up but I don’t think it’s just to do with the coffee if you’re already joking about it. I know you, Fee. Was there something else? Did she threaten you?”

I turn away from him. “Tell me, Fee. Please.”

I sigh, but don’t turn back around. “She said that the one thing I got right was that the idea of me ever being anyone’s mother was terrifying.” I choke out, throat burning.

I feel him approaching me, so I continue in a rush. “Maybe she has a kid at home with some behavioral stuff and I struck a nerve. I don’t know.”

“And with someone else, your joke might have been the thing to help them realize that they need to check in on their kid. Maybe that little shit’s parent will take the teacher comments seriously and stop thinking the sun shine’s out of their ass. Or at minimum, take a closer look just in case. It’s a good bit, Fee. The only reason I didn’t want you to do it was because I assume the worst of people and didn’t want anyone complaining to the school. And sure, calling a kid a cunt is bound to upset someone. Not everyone has the same superior sense of humor.”

He tries to make the last part sound light, but I still feel defensive.

“I changed it so it was referencing when I used to work as an aide.” I say, turning around and looking up at him, now.