Free Phantom Limbs by Paula Garner Page A

everything by disappearing from chat last night? Fuck, what if she was mad at me?
    My stomach cramped up and then, next thing I knew, I had diarrhea. After a few bouts of that fun, I decided I’d better shower again. So I took yet another shower and then examined the toilet again to make sure there was nothing gross anywhere on or in it.
    Three additional costume changes later, I was dressed and ready. And shaking. I had the paranoid thought that maybe the bathroom still smelled from when I had the diarrhea, so I ran in and sprayed some air freshener. While I was there I brushed my teeth again, because you never know. And then I noticed there were splashes of water on the mirror, so I took some toilet paper and tried to wipe it off. And that’s when the doorbell rang.
    A gasp rattled down my throat, making me cough, and I turned left and right, not knowing where to go or what to do. Let my parents answer it? Wait for them to call me and then saunter down, all casual-like? Go down there on my own? What the hell was I going to say? Would it look weird if I hugged her in front of everyone? Would it look weird if I didn’t? Holy Christ, I had toilet paper in my hand! What if I’d gone downstairs like that, clutching a fistful of crumpled toilet paper?
    I flushed it and washed my hands, just in case Meg had heard the toilet flush from outside our house — the windows were open, after all — and would think it was gross that I hadn’t washed my hands after. I tried to move toward the stairs, but my body didn’t want to move. My breathing was labored. My lips were numb. My pits pumped out sweat like fire hydrants. This was
not
how I envisioned greeting Meg.
    I took a last look at my face, my hair, my nostrils, my clothes, and I moved toward the stairs like a man sent to walk the plank.
    My mom met me halfway up. She pulled me back up the stairs and into the hall.
    “What?” I asked.
    “She didn’t come.”
    I stood there for long moments, trying to process. If my mom’s agonized expression was any indication, I must have looked pathetic.
    “What do you mean? Why?” I finally managed.
    “She — I guess she doesn’t want to leave the cat.”
    “The
cat
?”
    My mom winced. “Apparently she feels the trip was traumatic for him, and she feels bad leaving him alone.”
    Meg cared more about a cat than about me. Things were worse than I thought.
    “Otis, you have to come down.”
    I felt like punching the wall. “I’ll be down in a minute,” I told her, heading for my room.
    “Make it a fast minute, Otis,” she called, but I was already closing the door.
    Was Meg just avoiding me? Why didn’t she tell me herself? I pulled my phone out of my pocket to check for messages.
    One from Dara: You suck.
    And one from Shafer: THE MASSIVE PENIS YOU’VE ALWAYS WANTED — IN JUST TWO WEEKS!! CHECK OUT THIS LINK!!!
    Typical Shafer, with another PSA to the team. Personally, if I had reason to be interested in penis enlargers, I wouldn’t be sending out announcements.
    But nothing from Meg.
    I worked on a text to send her.
    I can’t believe you’re not coming. What the fuck?
    Delete.
    How’s your stupid cat?
    Delete.
    My mom made potato salad with blue cheese and capers and a fucking rhubarb pie just for you!
    Delete.
    Finally I settled on, Hope your cat is doing better. See you soon, I guess.
    I wasn’t halfway down the stairs when my phone buzzed in my pocket. She wrote:
    I’m sorry. I should have come.
    Followed by:
    Jasper won’t come out from under the bed. He doesn’t even care if I’m here or not.
    I paused on the stairs, wondering whether I should text and tell her to get her dad to go back and get her. Damn license! Damn Dara, damn swimming for taking up all the time I could have spent getting in the damn fifty hours behind the wheel. Damn my parents for being such fascists about the stupid fifty hours. If not for all of that, I’d have my license and I’d be able to drive over.
    Another text came