The Brandywine Prophet

10.3 Young Love (Reprise)

Janie winced.

“Does that hurt?”

“It’s okay.”

Chase eased his hold on her foot. “Better?”

“Mmm.”

The sock clung to her ankle as he bunched the tube toward her heel, leaving a trail of purple and blue fuzz on her imprinted skin. Janie glanced at her open laptop for the hundredth time, then draped her forearm over her eyes and nestled the back of her head into the pillow. Chase was confused about the computer’s NASCAR wallpaper, but didn’t ask.

The first day of work was over. Janie secured the Best in Category award for her outstanding Swan Lake ballet, Miss Kayla’s Dance Studio received a Best in Category award for “Material Girl” (which Janie choreographed), Mr. Carmel thanked the Sparkle Motion crew for a successful first day, and Hank smirked and winked as Chase ducked out the hotel-room door.

A half-mile midnight jog brought him to the fluffy pink core of his girlfriend’s home life. He recognized certain aspects of her room from photos; most familiar was the headboard’s vertical iron bars and their corresponding shadows on the pink wall. How surreal to see them in person after watching them frame Janie’s face during their nightly webcam sessions.

He planned on presenting her with the anniversary gift in his pocket, but when they settled into opposite ends of the bed and she asked for a foot massage, he put off the gift for the fourth time.

The sock smelled like girl-sweat—a very different smell from boy-sweat—and Chase wondered if pheromones were real. He pulled her sock from the tip of her foot and tossed it to the floor with the other dirty clothes. She scrunched and fanned her toes, loosening the bandage that gripped all five knuckles. Chase pinched the bandaid’s flap near her baby toe and delicately peeled off the sticker like shelling a hardboiled egg.

He rolled down the other sock but the cotton snagged the nail of her big toe. It was blood-purple and hinged at the cuticle.

She winced again. “I know it’s gross.”

He unhooked the sock from its snare, threw it away, then wiggled the nail to test its hold. “It’ll feel better if I pull it off,” he said.

“Do it.”

“How was your mom today?”

“On edge.”

He folded the nail back until it touched the knuckle. “Was she proud of you?”

“I tried to convince her to talk to Dad. Told her how well he was doing.”

“She wouldn’t see him?” Chase creased the nail at the base and wobbled it back and forth.

“She’s looking for a place of her own. Said I have to move in with her after the Chicago nationals.”

“I think that’s a good thing.”

“No. Not yet.”

Chase continued his work on the toe, but looked to the window, through the slats of blinds, and at the theater. “What does he do up there at night?”

“He’s fixing it up.”

“But the show started today.”

“He brought his typewriter. Maybe he’s working.”

“He can’t work here?”

Janie sat up so quickly that Chase thought he hurt her, but she grabbed the laptop instead, laid back down, and set it on her stomach.