Page 44 of Breakout Year
15
Akiva
Eitan: I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me. Like on a fake date.
The text came in right as Sue’s PT was finishing for the day. Akiva had dispensed with his emails, his spreadsheet logging. He’d coded Mark’s square purple—a refusal to accept the money, even if Akiva had sent two reminders and was tempted to send a third.
Akiva even dutifully picked his wrists up off his keyboard when fussed at by Miss Linda. For his compliance, she’d also snuck him no fewer than four sugar-free miniature chocolate bars over the course of an hour. Things were looking up.
“What’s got you smiling?” Sue emerged from the hallway, a physical therapist—a big man with the look of a faded jock—hovering by her elbow as if she might fall. Sue cut a resentful look at him. “I’m too old to be pushed around by medical personnel, Jason,” she said, even as her hands hung exhaustedly limp at her sides.
Akiva shook his head, both at Sue’s question and at her dropping Jason’s name. She had a habit of naming annoying side characters after annoying people in her life, one he’d call petty if she hadn’t let him join in over the years. But Akiva was not going to name an officious 1890s bank teller Jason.
His phone buzzed again. Eitan, adding a string of question marks to his text followed by a pleaasssse. He’d texted a few times since that night in his car, when Akiva kissed him—a kiss for only the watching eye of Akiva’s driveway light—and Eitan said they’d be better off as fake boyfriends. As dumpings went, at least this one came with cash payments and a candle Akiva definitely hadn’t spent the last few days smelling.
“You going to answer that?” Sue snatched an elbow away from Jason, then aimed herself to where Miss Linda was waving a piece of paper for her attention.
Akiva folded his laptop and went to intercept Sue. Signing was hard most days. Right after PT, it was nearly impossible. Besides, he didn’t want Sue to sign something she hadn’t read through, even if it was probably just the boilerplate medical information release form they made her sign every third session for some reason.
“If you want to sit…” he offered.
For a moment, Sue looked like she might tsk that she was perfectly fine and that if he kept hovering, she was going to disappear him like she did her ex-husband. (Though Akiva’s Googling revealed said ex-husband died five years ago, survived only by his much younger wife and a mountain of debt. Good riddance.)
Then Sue sat. Grabbed his laptop as if she was merely reviewing story notes.
When he got to the desk, Miss Linda slid him the paper—yes, just a medical release. Akiva couldn’t technically sign it on Sue’s behalf, but he could offer her a thicker marker from his pack. She gripped it as she swiped her signature across the page. He returned the form to the desk, and Miss Linda accepted it and proffered yet another sugarless miniature Hershey bar that she held out but didn’t release into his palm.
“Has he been smiling this whole time?” Sue piped from her chair.
“Sure has. Usually it’s all—” Miss Linda did an exaggerated huff that Akiva supposed was meant to be an impression of him. “But not today.”
“Are you ganging up on me?” For that, Akiva got two almost instantaneous yeses and the final drop of Miss Linda’s candy into his hand.
His phone buzzed. Technically, a conspiracy required three people. Eitan was now the official third co-conspirator. Question marks and begging had been replaced by a photo.
Eitan: It’s rescue dog day at the park!
Eitan, in a team-branded shirt, holding a puppy, who was licking his nose as Eitan laughed in delight.
Eitan: They gave me the smallest one ’cause I’m short. Don’t you think he kinda looks like you?
Because the puppy was a squirming labradoodle with a stern expression.
Akiva smiled reflexively and got a slightly middle school-ish ooh from Sue as if he was being obvious, which he was. He unwrapped the candy and popped it in his mouth. Sweetness flooded his tongue, along with an aftertaste: a reminder that this whole thing was artificial.
Akiva should answer if only so Eitan stopped texting.
Akiva: Yes, I’ll go out with you on another fake date.
Celebration balloons floated up his phone screen.
Eitan: Do you want a dog? They keep asking if we want dogs, but I can’t have one since I don’t know where I’m gonna be next year and I don’t want to move some unsuspecting dog to Tampa or wherever.
Then a pause, a succession of three dots like Eitan was typing and erasing and typing and erasing.
Eitan: I really thought I was gonna stay in Cleveland.
Akiva pushed down his reaction. This wasn’t real, except for the ache in his chest. He could feel Sue and Miss Linda studying him. Whatever his face was doing, he’d hear about it as he drove Sue home.
