Page 36 of Man Flu

Ugh. Why? “Well, he seemed angry to me. Did you say anything you shouldn’t have said, maybe?”

Cora looks like she’s thinking about my question for a minute. “No, the last thing I remember him saying before I fell asleep was, ‘I’d do anything for this life.’ I don’t know what he meant by it, though, and I was too tired to ask any more questions.”

Clearly, the man is delusional, or was delusional. Who the hell thinks like that after witnessing what he saw yesterday. For the simple fact that I need to somehow face him today, part of me wants to call up all those nice men I work with and tell them to screw off because I quit. Except, I can’t. I need money. I need to adult and be a mother and crap—well, I’ll skip the crap. Had enough of that for now …

We reach the bus stop just as I hear the rumbling engine echoing from the other side of the hill.

“Are you sure you feel good enough to go to school? You can’t tell anyone you got sick this morning or they’ll send you right home.”

I kneel in front of Cora and look her straight in the eyes, seeing she still doesn’t look right. She’s a tough cookie. I’ll give her that.

Cora places her hands on my shoulders. “Are you sure you’re well enough to go to work today?”

“No, sweetie. No, I’m not.”

“Then you should stay home in your jammies like I did yesterday.”

“I wish I could,” I tell her.

Missing a half day of work for being sick isn’t my thing. The men in the office do it weekly to the point where I think they eat up more of their vacation time being sick than they do taking actual vacation days.

I kiss Cora on the head and watch her hop onto the bus as if nothing’s wrong. I feel a little like death, which means she probably feels at least half of that since she’s a day ahead of me. “Thank the cesspool at school for me,” I mutter as the bus chugs by.

I move as quickly as possible back toward the house, spotting Rick and Tiana outside with their dog, Chicklette. How freaking cute are they in their bathrobes, walking a rat through their freshly sprinkled grass.

It’s about time I find a back entrance into the house so I can avoid them whenever possible. Sometimes, I feel like they just wait outside to torture me—make me feel a little worse about my sorry life. That would be too easy for Rick, though. He could just call me up and say the words, “There’s someone out there for you, Hannah Banana. Don’t give up.” It’s been a year. I’m in my thirties. I’ve had a daughter. I have a full-time career, and oh, I live next door to my ex-husband and Princess Tiana. Mothertruckers.

“Good morning, Hannah!” Tiana shouts with her hand flopping in the air as if I were a long-lost friend she hasn’t seen in years. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” I grunt. “Thanks.”

“Aww, Hannahbannana, the bug still got you down?” Rick coos.

“You know what, Rick?” I say, stopping halfway up my driveway. “I hope you get this bug, and I hope it hits you like a sack of bricks. We all know how weak your poor little tummy is. Just wait.”

“Oh, don’t worry about Rick,” Tiana says, cheerfully, “I’ve been giving him vitamins in his power drinks in the morning. His immune system is like ‘pew pew,’” she says, making shooting motions, using her hands as pistols, like an idiot. “He has nothing to worry about.” She smiles, flashing her blinding veneers.

I wonder what would happen if one of those things fell out of her mouth. I heard they usually end up filing the tooth all the way down to the nub or something before they attach them. So, there’s a nub there somewhere, I bet. Oh, it would be so unfortunate if her nub was showing.

I don’t have the stomach to continue this conversation, so I offer my fakest smile and head into the house.

I’m not sure how I’ll make myself look human in the next fifteen minutes, but I pray I have enough makeup to do so.

It takes me less than one coat of lipstick to remember my car is at work. Logan is disgusted by me, or so it seemed … can’t imagine why, and there is no way in hell I’m asking Rick for help.

I drop the lipstick tube into the sink, hearing the clang as it bounces against the porcelain. Why?

As if it were an answer to my answerless question, the doorbell rings. What now? Let me guess, Rick needs to come spit in my face? Maybe it’s Tiana still jogging in place so I can watch her boobs bounce in synchronicity. It’s hypnotizing, really.

I hobble down the steps while trying to get my shoes on at the same time. “Coming!”

Every stair is another small reminder of the hollowness in my stomach and the fire that might still be burning somewhere in that area.

I open the door and take a step back from surprise. I didn’t think I’d see him here after last night, and certainly not with a smile on his face. “Logan?”

“Need a lift?”

“Well—”