Free Brave New Love by Paula Guran Page B

then you should come. I bet they could
use someone younger to help with the girl.” I looked at her, imploring her to come. I needed her to know that this was real.
    She looked as if she was going to leave, but then sighed. “Fine, but only because I know you’re wrong.” She walked ahead of me, and I felt both relieved and dejected. I
wasn’t exactly thrilled by what she was about to see.
    •  •  •
    It was awful. I’d never seen a person act that way. The little girl, Elaine, stayed in bed and wept as Alicia and I kept her company. She didn’t seem to have the
energy to do much more. Occasionally she pulled up and heaved into a bucket. Alicia gave her water, and then she’d fall back asleep. Still, at least I wasn’t next door, where in another
small room her brother was yelling obscenities. I felt the force of his (or someone else’s) body slam into the wall from time to time. Clearly, he wasn’t taking this easily.
    It didn’t take too much to convince me that Dylan was right. I searched for another explanation, and couldn’t find one. It had to be the food.
    While Elaine slept, I asked Alicia if it were true, if that was what she meant when she’d said she’d wanted her freedom.
    “Yes. I knew something was wrong. At one point I got sick and couldn’t eat for a few days, and I went through something like this. But then,” she paused, shaking her head.
“everything became clear. I ate half portions for a few days while I recovered, and I was still aware of things that I hadn’t really felt before. Like how much I loved my mom. It
wasn’t just that I was attached to her, but I really, really loved her.
    “Anyway, Tanya and I were neighbors. I explained how I felt one day and she already knew about it. We decided that we’d rather be able to feel than not, and we left. Monica found us
in the woods at just about the time we’d decided we were giving up and going back. We were starving.”
    I considered this. “But if you loved your mom so much, how could you just leave her?”
    “At least I can still feel that I love her. And I can miss her. I know that sounds like a poor substitute for actually being with her but you’re still in it,” she said.
“You don’t know what you’re not feeling.”
    I tried to focus in on myself. If there had ever been an opportunity to do that, this was it. It was just before lunchtime, and now that I thought about it, my ability to perceive things did
seem easier now, given the time that had passed since breakfast. I tried to dig deep and feel something.
    I closed my eyes and tried. I clenched my hands and scrunched my forehead and tried to will myself to feel something more than satisfactory, pleasantness, something beyond the almost warmth of
happiness, the diluted weight of sadness.
    A knock came at the door. It was Doc Sara.
    “Mackenzie, it’s time for you to eat. Dylan has your lunch,” she said, coming in the room and taking my place. “Two doors down on the left.”
    Thrown off by the failure of my own heart, I left. I opened the door two down on the left and found Dylan sitting on one of two thin beds in the room, a tray of his own food in his lap and mine
waiting across from him.
    “What happened?” I gasped. Dylan had a purple bruise on his cheekbone, just by his eye.
    He gave me a small shrug. “Austin’s a fighter. I’m sure you heard.”
    “Yes, but still.” I walked over and put my fingers lightly on the bruise. It was warm. “You should get Doc Sara to look at that.”
    “Already did,” he said. “Nothing to do but let it run its course.” He hesitated for a moment. “But your hand feels nice.”
    I looked away from the lump and into his eyes. There was something there, something just below the surface. I didn’t know what to do, so I just went to sit on the other bed where my food
was waiting.
    I peeled back the film and was pleased to find it still warm. They could be eaten at room temperature, but warm was