Infected

Chapter 15

"It's a fair Elle. What's so complicated about it?" I tell myself. I've been pacing the floor of my bedroom for the past hour juggling this dilemma. "Just pick something."

I stop and stare at the pile that's formed on my bed. There is an ironic similarity between it and my anxiety about today. I could go for the cable knit sweaters draped on my headboard but it would mean I'd have to use a scarf to hide my neck - too much bulk for my fluctuating body heat. The various hoodies I'd collected were too causal, even though I knew others would surely be wearing one. I, along with Mel and Galen, would be front and center today at the dunk tank, representing the medical center as well as Liv's fundraisers, I had to make a good impression.

I dig into the pile and select a thin black turtleneck, matching skinny jeans and an old jean jacket. Simple, easy, but most importantly, it would hide everything I wanted it to. No one could speculate my mental state from the outfit and the illusion would continue.

I hustle into the bathroom, somehow running terribly late for the decorating we had to do before the campus opened up to the public. I run a toothbrush through my mouth, and shake my hair out until the curls look somewhat presentable. It lays lifeless and speckled with grey along my chest, the same eerie quality that my mother has. Her hair was the first to show the effects of her stress, her struggle.

Like mother, like daughter, I think to myself.

I don't know why I was even making an effort for this. It'd be so easy to just stay home and continue my boring neverending days in a cloud of doom.

I stop my selfish train of thought by shaking my head.

This is for Liv.

I repeat the phrase aloud while collecting the rest of my things. I take my purse off the hook downstairs and my keys from the bowl by the door. I shove my feet into my combat boots and give myself one more glance in the entryway mirror. I sigh, unsatisfied with the girl who's trying too hard to seem sane.

"Let's get this over with." I lock the door behind me and drive away seconds later. After entering the university's narrow streets I take a road to a small field meant for large functions and the agriculture department.

Luckily, I arrive before the line gets too long, turning left to get to the area designated for volunteers.

I find an open spot and park my car, seeing a familiar grey truck a few rows ahead with a logo plastered on the driver's door. I smile to myself at the graphic of an owl sipping coffee, thinking of Liv.

Years ago, when she and I had first move here, we would frequently go to Roe's to pass the time. Upon mentioning that she was an art student, Louis nearly exploded. He begged her for weeks to create a fresh image that he could use to boost sales. She chose the animal that now marks that truck and for what reason, I don't know. Nevertheless he's used it ever since, even putting it on the packages he sells to the university's small cafes and gift shops.

I get out of my car and bow my head as I walk around the maze of cars, trying not to stick out. Someone shouts my name and I instinctually turn towards it. Louis is waving frantically at me. Shit.

He pushes a wheelchair filled with a pile of blankets into view. In the chair, a bundled little body raises its head. It's Louis's mother, no longer the large and in charge women I remember seeing around the cafe. Her face is swollen, giving off the purple hue of poor circulation. A tube rests just under her nose, providing oxygen through a hidden tank. It's probably under all the blankets that conceal the rest of her body.

An excited grin breaks out over Louis's face, "Hey Elle. Long time no see."

"Hey Louis." My voice is not as lively as his as I call back to him, in fact it comes off annoyed. The tone hurts him, I can see it in his brilliant hazel eyes for second.