I don’t like cordial.
I like fiery Cora.
Pissed-off Cora.
Loving Cora.
But it feels like living in purgatory with this bland version of her. I get to see her, but I don’t get all of her, the best parts of her, and that’s more painful than not having her at all.
“I, uh, I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow,” I say, causing her to lift her gaze. “I scheduled an Uber to pick me up so you don’t have to worry about taking me.”
Her brows sharpen. “You’re not taking an Uber to your appointment. I’ll take you.”
“I don’t want to bother you.”
“And I don’t want you to forget anything the doctor says. Therefore, I’ll take you.”
“Cora, really—”
She holds up her hand. “You do realize that if we follow directions specifically, then this will all be over sooner, right? I can’t have you missing anything, Pike. The quicker I can move on with my life, the better.”
Ouch.
That’s a fucking punch to the gut.
“Okay, sure. Yeah. If you don’t mind.”
“I mind, but I’ll do it.” Her words cut through me just like her knife cuts through her chicken, with jarring ease.
Unsure what else to say, other than “thank you”—but we established she doesn’t want to be thanked for everything—I stay silent and finish off my mashed potatoes and chicken. When I’m done, I dab my mouth with my napkin and set the napkin on my plate, only for the plate to be ripped out from underneath me by Cora, who angrily charges toward the kitchen.
What the hell is going on?
For a few seconds, I watch as she slams things around the kitchen, cleaning up from dinner, and I try to wrack my brain for what could be the cause of her anger, but I come up completely short.
I have two options here. I can go into the kitchen to attempt to help her and see what’s bothering her, or I can tuck my tail between my legs, shut my mouth, and sit on the couch.
One has the risk of getting my head chewed off. The other has the risk of distancing us even more.
I’m pretty sure taking the risk of getting yelled at is better than not seeing that fiery spirit though.
So, like the dumb man that I am, I stand, slip my one crutch under my arm, and hobble over to the kitchen. I lean against the counter, close to her, and ask, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she snaps.
Oof.
Fine.
I think we’ve been over the way “FINE” doesn’t actually mean fine. In this moment, “fine” means she’s two seconds away from ripping someone’s head in half and feeding it to the pigeons outside. “Fine” means duck for cover. “Fine” means protect your scrotum, because chances are, a foot is seeking out your unborn.
And yet . . . knowing all of that, I press on.
“It doesn’t seem like you’re fine.”
Her eyes flare in my direction and, oh boy, if looks could kill, I would be toast right now.
“Please, Pike, please inform me of how I’m feeling if you know so well.”
Sarcasm—another precursor to one losing their manhood. When paired with the word “fine,” one must duck for cover.
But once again, I’m an ignorant man, and I’m attracted to the Cora with life in her eyes.
“Well, it sort of seems like you’re pissed at something, and I was wondering if it had to do with me.”
When a sarcastic laugh falls past her lips, it leads me to assume that, in fact, her mood has to do entirely with me.
But after she laughs, she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she turns toward the sink and starts washing the dishes. Dishes that she can put in the dishwasher . . .
Bollocks. She must be really fucking pissed.
I can feel her rage, so what do I do? I scoot in closer so I’m standing right next to her, my shoulder bumping against hers.
“You know, there’s a funny joke about an Englishman who—”
“Has his dick chopped off because he couldn’t take a hint?” Cora asks, looking up at me.
Annnnnd . . . yup, my balls just shriveled up into dust. Poof. Gone.
I awkwardly laugh. “That’s one way to tell the joke.”
She rests her hands on the edge of the sink and says, “I would suggest taking about five steps to your left unless you want your other arm broken.”
“Technically, it’s my wrist that’s broken.”
She growls.
Legit growls. And I take it that maybe correcting her wasn’t the best thing to do in the moment.