Page 40 of Hate You, Maybe
“I’m allergic to mangoes,” I choke out.
He takes this in, nods. “All right. Good to know,” he says. “I don’t have any allergies. But I was born without an appendix.”
My eyes narrow. “Seriously?”
“It’s rare, but yeah. I mean, no. No appendix for me. No tonsils either. I had those yanked when I was five.”
An image of little Dexter in the hospital flashes through my brain, and the picture is, regrettably, sweet. He’s not some enemy trying to steal my department’s funding. He’s just a tiny kid with a head full of dark hair in a big bed hooked up to machines, waiting for his operation.
I shouldn’t want to know more about this side of Dexter. Connecting with him comes with risks. So I absolutely cannot let myself ask for more details. Still.
“Were you scared?” I ask.
Oh, come on, Sayla.
“Yeah, at first, for sure.” He ducks his head. “But then the nurses gave me a bear.”
Maybe you’ll have better luck keeping your distance from Dexter during lunch.
“Like a … teddy bear?”
“Yup. I still have him.”
Against my will, a small smile plays across my lips. “The teddy? No way.”
He nods. “Way.”
“TIME!” Hildy calls out.
And Dex moves to the left.
Chapter Eleven
Dex
I think Sayla’s avoiding me.
At lunch, she blows through the buffet, filling her plate like she’s on the verge of starving. And rather than wait to see where I’m sitting, she joins a table of nurses from St. Augustine’s to eat. So I settle at a table under a tree outside the mess hall, with a massive serving of spaghetti and garlic bread. Caroline and Tori sit with me almost immediately. They’re both nice enough, although Tori does come on a little strong. To be fair, though, there’s actually more to Tori than the leggings and teeth Sayla pointed out.
Apparently, Tori’s studying to be a child psychologist, which I think is pretty cool. The therapy I did twenty years ago made a huge difference in my life. But I don’t tell her this. I don’t talk to anyone about that time. I just keep moving forward in continuous motion. Kind of like a tiger shark in a Gray Squirrels hoodie with a whistle around its neck.
After lunch, Bob and Hildy direct everyone back over tothe main lodge, where they tell us we’ll be taking turns, in smaller groups, climbing the rock wall. Three pairs each time. Six people total per round. The activity, they explain, as if the point’s not already obvious, is about trust and cooperation with your partner.
And also a little bit of individual fear-conquering, for those of us afraid of heights.
Meanwhile, the groups not climbing the wall will be on the mats for yoga and stretching exercises. A woman named Fern is here to lead all the mat stuff. According to Bob and Hildy, she’s an expert atmind and body symbiosis. Quote unquote.
To be honest, I’m not looking forward to that part. I’ve never been too good at yoga and stretching. In fact, I can barely reach my toes, a shortcoming I’ve learned to live with. Until it’s on display in a room full of strangers.
And Sayla.
Rock climbing, though, I love. And I’m fully prepared to work with her to showcase our collaborative spirit for Bob and Hildy. Except that as soon as we’re all inside the lodge, some guy immediately snags her as his partner before I have a chance to ask.
Hogan, I think his name is.
Okay. That’s not true. I know his name’s Hogan. I kept track after watching him entertain Sayla during the ice breaker. What can I say? Not everyone can make that woman laugh out loud. So yeah, I got curious about what Hogan from Mills River said to make her crack up like that.
Either way, I get sent to yoga, where I end up on a mat with way too good a view of their rock climbing session.
