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apology written on his face.
    “Elora, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” He sighs.
    “It’s nothing. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say, then turn back around, desperate to be out in the fresh air. He says nothing more, and I leave without another word.

    “Where does he live?” Daniel says angrily. “I don’t care if he’s got legs or not, he has no right to be such an asshole!”
    I touch his chest, holding him at bay.
    “Stop it. I’m fine. I just had a rough day— we had a rough day. It’ll be better tomorrow.”
    “It had better be,” he says, then placing his hands on my shoulders, he bids me to look at him. “Are you sure this is what you want to do? Taking care of people who couldn’t care less about your feelings?”
    I push away.
    “That’s not how it is. There’s a nice person inside him somewhere. I just have to help him find himself.”
    “Elora, that’s not your job. Your job is to take care of his physical needs, not be his shrink.”
    “That’s part of it though. Look, I’m the only aide who’s come back. All the others stayed only for the day. He’s tried chasing me off too, but—”
    “But, you’re too stubborn,” he interrupts.
    I smile.
    “Yes. I am.”

LOGAN
    “M mm. Something smells good,” Michael says as he puts his jacket on the chair. “What delicious concoction did she make for us today?” He opens the oven door to discover some sort of casserole. It does smell good. “Dude, you should be having sex with this girl. Imagine what she’d cook for us then.”
    “Fuck off, asshole! Don’t talk about her like that!” I spit. God, he’s such a pig.
    Michael holds up his hands in surrender.
    “Okay, okay. Relax. I was just being funny. But, really dude, if she’s as good in bed as she is in the kitchen…” His eyes widen.
    “If you want to keep your middle leg, you’ll shut your mouth right now,” I warn.
    He laughs loudly.
    “Calm down. I’m not planning on banging your girl.”
    “Michael, I’ve told you, she’s not my girl. She’s a girl who works for me. That’s all.” I wheel myself up to the table.
    “So, she’s fair game then?” I shoot virtual daggers at him, and he backs off the subject.
    Michael scoops two portions of Elora’s casserole onto our plates, and we dig in.
    “When am I going to meet this girl whose virtue you’re protecting from me?” he asks as he chews.
    “Hopefully never,” I mutter petulantly.
    “Oh, come on. I’ll behave.”
    I snort.
    “When has that ever happened?”
    “While it’s true it’s a rare occasion, I can be good when I want to be. Just ask Mom. By the way, she said she called here today, but no one answered.”
    “I wasn’t in the mood to talk. I’ll call her back later.”
    “You always say that, and never do.”
    “I don’t want to hear a lecture from her,” I say. “I’ll call her another day.”
    “She’s just worried about you, you know.”
    I nod sadly.
    “I know.”
    The rest of dinner is eaten in relative silence. Afterward, I resign myself to the fact that I must call my mother, before she gets too concerned and pays me a visit. I go to my room and grab my cell phone. She answers on the second ring.
    “Logan! How are you? I called you earlier today but got no answer. Were you in therapy?”
    I sigh. Here we go.
    “Hello, mother. I’m fine. How are you?” I recite the standard greeting and brace myself for the barrage of motherly advice.
    “I’m fine, darling. How’s the recovery going?”
    “It’s going fine.”
    “Did you get to speak with someone in the prosthetics department?”
    “Mom, you know I’m not ready to do that yet.” I say yet as though I’ll ever be ready for fake legs.
    “Oh, sweetie, please reconsider. You’re so young. You have a whole lifetime ahead of you.”
    I roll my eyes and think, this is why I don’t call her more often .
    “Yes, I know.”
    “So, Michael tells me he’s hired someone to come and help you during the day, when