The severing of all her hopes.

She swallowed as she stared at the envelope. Insult to injury. Insult to ACL injury.

She picked up the envelope and tore it neatly in two. Then again.

And again. Tiny pieces rained into her lap like white tears.

“I can’t do it again, Lex.” Trish’s bloodshot eyes darted toward Lex, then out the living room window. Her shaking hand picked at the fuzz on her sweatshirt.

“Do what again, Trish? I’ve never torn my ACL before.” Lex had hoped Trish’s arrival at her house meant she’d drive Lex back to work, but no way would she get into a car with Trish in her condition. “Did you call in sick to work? I’ve never seen you this hungover since college.”

“I’m not hungover.” Trish answered too quickly, too emphatically. She scrubbed at her cheeks, which only turned them from pale bags to pink bags.

“No, you were just too tired to pick me up for my MRI. Which was at 11:00 a.m.”

“I already said I was sorry.” Trish didn’t sound like it.

“You know what? You can make it up to me if you’ll help me the few days after my surgery.”

“That’s just it, Lex. I can’t do it again. This is just like the last time.”

“What last time? My sprained ankles?”

“No… you know… after the rape.”

Arctic winter flash-froze her heart. Lex had never spoken the word. Trish hadn’t either, until now. The ugly sound settled in the room like dirty snow on a roadway. “I don’t understand.”

“You were so depressed afterward.”

Lex didn’t clearly remember the days, even weeks after the attack. She remembered feeling like weights were on her legs, her arms. She opened her mouth, but she couldn’t speak about it.

Trish kept talking. “I understand the trauma for you and all that, but being with you drained me emotionally.”

Lex remembered Trish with her in those days – Trish as her constant, the only bright star in her blustery night. Trish’s smile, Trish’s touch on her arm, her shoulder, her head – the only touch Lex could tolerate at the time. Outside of her dad and brother, only Trish knew what had happened to her. She hadn’t even told Venus or Jenn, much less Grandma.

Lex swallowed. “I was counting on you to help me through the surgery.”

Trish shook her head, her eyes on the walls, the ceiling, out the window. “Kazuo says I’m giving too much of my time, that you’re being too clingy and demanding.”

“What?”

“I can’t do it again, Lex.”

Lex sat there, breathing hard and fast. And really, what could she say? Oh, okay. I promise not to be a basket case now that I’ve lost my knee and Wassamattayu in the same day.

Trish sighed into the silence, then turned and walked out the front door. She shut it firmly behind her.

Lex stared at it. She realized she hoped it would open again, and she looked away.

Her gaze fell on her bulky leg, braced in a black web of Velcro and metal. The physical pain didn’t come close to the aching in her heart every time she saw it. Her first major surgery.

She’d never thought it could happen to her. A few sprained ankles, a few torn muscles here and there. Nothing serious.

This… This sucked the life out of her soul. She felt hollow and fragile.

She never felt hollow and fragile. She was always strong and healthy.

Maybe she’d never be strong or healthy again.

Lex squeezed her eyes shut as a tear spilled out. She bit her tongue, hard. The pain helped her focus, kept her from exploding into a billion little fragments.

Who would take care of her? She and her dad moved out this weekend. She could no longer handle the stairs for the room in the condo she’d found, so she had called and taken a ground-floor studio in south San Jose, the only thing she could afford, sight unseen because she couldn’t get a hold of Trish to check it out for her. Maybe she had been relying on Trish too much lately.

Had Lex been smothering her? When she usually only saw Trish once or twice a week at church or Bible study? But she tended to call Trish when she needed her for something. Maybe that was smothering.

Lex sighed, but it came out like a sob. Just call her a wet, smothering blanket.

Who would take care of her? Dad? No – Dad had never been comfortable with helping her with personal stuff. He’d always stayed away from it, leaving one of her aunts to help her when she was growing up.

Jennifer? She’d be sympathetic and mothering, but she had to work. Venus? Lex had never been as close to prickly Venus as Trish.

She had no one…

The phone rang. Lex measured the distance between the couch and the cordless, then hauled herself to her feet to pick it up on the fourth ring. “Hello?”

“Lex, it’s Venus. This is going to weird you out, but I suddenly felt like I should call. Maybe it was God trying to talk to me.”

Lex burst into tears.

Venus sighed. “I guess God was right.”

Say good-bye.

Lex memorized the shape of the funny door knocker on the old oak door, the crooked front window, the sagging roofline. Besides that rental house in college with her three cousins, and that very brief time she’d had her own apartment – dark memories there – she’d only known this house. Mom had died here. It felt like leaving her all over again.

Behind her, Venus slammed her trunk. “Is this all?”

“Yeah. Dad bought me a storage unit and dropped off the rest of the boxes yesterday.” Separated from all her things.

Venus got behind the wheel and strapped her seatbelt on while Lex got into the passenger side of the beat-up Honda. “Are you sure we should take my car?”

“With mine, we’d take two trips because the trunk isn’t big enough.”

“I’m just not sure this thing will make it with all the extra weight.”

“It had better.” Venus fired up the engine. It roared to life, then died.

“See?” Lex thrust her hands out, as if saying a mantra to the goddess of old cars.

Venus gave her a mean sidelong look. “Grow up, will you?” She banged her hand against the dashboard, then turned the key.

The Honda came to life.

“How did you do that?”

“Cars respond to bullying more than praying.”

The car whined and complained on the freeway, especially at the speed Venus made it maintain. Once on streets, it rebelled, belching smoke and jerking every time it started up from a red light. They limped into the driveway to her new apartment building, the Honda moaning and sputtering.

Venus slammed her door and stabbed a finger at Lex over the oxidized hood. “How do you stand driving this thing?”

Lex flung her arms wide. “Do you see me with enough money to buy a new one?” She moved on her crutches to the manager’s apartment.

A cheerful Hispanic woman answered the door, patting her gray bun in place and reeking of garlic.

“Hi, I’m Lex Sakai. I’m renting a ground-floor apartment.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. I’ve been waiting for you. Oh, injured your knee? No wonder you need a ground-floor unit. You’ll like this one.

The last owner who had pets moved out seven years ago, so the smell’s gone away by now. Here’s your key – oh, I guess you can’t carry it and walk with crutches, can you? I’ll carry it and show you to your apartment. Watch the hanging pots – oops, that one nailed you, huh? Be careful about Mrs. Delarosa’s pansies, over there. Sometimes I think if people just breathe on them they die, but she gets so upset. Aw, don’t worry about Mr. Parks’s dog, he can’t get past the security door, and he’s more bark than bite. Mr. Parks walks him twice a day without fail. Here we are. I’ll open the door for you. There. Welcome home!” The woman flung open the door and waggled a few ringed fingers like Vanna White.

Musty smell – it had been unused for a long time. Just enough floor space for her bed and her boxes, although it would be a squeeze to get to the bathroom. The short carpet was stained but clean. Same with the walls. A mini kitchenette took up an entire wall.