Jill looked much calmer than an hour ago. She seemed to be lost in thought, but I could tell she was trying to hide it from me. She avoided looking at the cast, as if she wanted to ignore it, and to forget the accident. But the cast was there, huge and white, mercilessly immobilizing her entire left leg and hip, and rendering her vulnerable and dependent. I carried the dishes to the kitchen and washed them. When I returned, I saw her trying to stand up. Balancing on her good leg and swaying precariously, she tucked the crutches under her arms. Her casted leg jutted out in front of her, looking grotesquely large compared to Jill’s slender body. “What are you doing?” I asked. “Do I have to explain all my actions?” she said, glancing at me with a raised eyebrow. “No, I thought you might need a hand.” “I have to pee,” she said matter-of-factly, “and I don’t need help with this”. I nodded, watching her unsteady movements. Her graceful gait was completely wiped out by the hip spica. "This seat taken?" I chuckled, gestured for her to sit. She took the coat off, revealing a sensible business ensemble. A black skirt, less form-fitting than usual, and a blue blouse worn over a black undershirt. The blouse was also looser than she often wore. Not that I hadn't seen exactly what she had to hide just a little while earlier. Was I wrong about what she had in mind for this little get together? Maybe she'd remembered as well? The waiter darted over to our table without appearing to be in a hurry. Mom ordered a frozen margarita, thanked him with a smile, then turned her large brown eyes to me. "So," she said. "So. You had something you wanted to tell me?" "We'll get to that. But I'm going to follow your lead and have a bit to drink first." "Fair enough," I said. "By the way, that's a nice blouse." She raised her eyebrows. Those thick beauties made her skin appear all the fairer. I cleared my throat. "Sorry," she said, adjusting her blouse nervously. "Thanks." She slipped.
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