Paul Whitford.
Jonas had been thinking about him that morning, after another failed attempt to drive Gus somewhere (to even back the little Honda out of his parking spot). The only thing about Paul that Jonas could remember was two fuzzy shadows outside his hospital door on the pediatric floor. The first, his mom. The second, taller, shoulders slumped.
The things he knew about Paul Whitford could be counted on one hand:
1. He was a truck driver.
2. He was old—about ready to retire at the time of The Accident.
3. He lived in Wisconsin.
4. He’d stayed with Jonas and Rhys (Jonas too out of it to remember this) until the police, the firemen, and the ambulance had shown up.
5. He’d tried to apologize.
Jonas’s phone lit up with a new text. Brennan.
JONAS.
His chemistry professor was saying something about the Diels-Alder reaction. Jonas was trying to remember what he’d said.
His phone lit up again.
JONAS GUESS WHAT.
He gave up on Paul and Diels and Alder (and their reaction), and texted Brennan back. What?
It took her a moment, but she finally texted him back a screenshot of a note.
Your story, Superioris, was chosen for our March Fic Feature!
This message was followed by another with a screenshot of what had to be Brennan’s follower count—it had shot up to over a thousand.
In one day!
she texted him.
And still rising!
Her next text was just a lot of exclamation points—
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Jonas couldn’t help but smile—he pictured her smiling her full-brightness smile, with her brown eyes shining and hands animated.
What did I tell you?
he sent her.
You’re amazing. You’ve always been amazing.
She was silent for a while, as if she didn’t quite believe him and therefore couldn’t formulate a response. Finally, those three dots, and then her message.
You’re amazing. This is amazing. You—this—it’s all more than I could have imagined when I thought about going off to college or posting my story . . . any of it. I can’t believe it.
Jonas thought of Brennan, of her hand on his and her arms around him. Even of Sam and Travis, of playing video games late into the night with them. Of friends. It’s all more than I could have imagined when I thought about what life would be like with one and a half legs. Any of it. All of it. It felt like possibility and moving on, when it had felt like the end of the world—Jonas’s Great Tragedy—before.
He wondered if he still had the piece of old hospital menu with the name, number, and address written on it. He wished he could call and get his mom to search his room for the paper without telling her what he wanted it for, but there was no way, and no chance that she wouldn’t know what it was if she found it, considering Ellis Whitford, Paul’s wife, had given it to her in the first place, after Jonas had refused to see any visitors.
At the front of the lecture hall, the professor was wrapping up their lecture. The auditorium filled with the sounds of shuffling papers and zipping backpacks as students unfolded themselves from their chairs and prepared for a mass exodus.
Jonas shouldered his backpack and took a deep breath before standing up, supporting himself with the crutches, and gingerly putting weight on the prosthetic leg (not too bad today).
Was this moving on?
I’m tired, he thought. It’s unfair, but unfair things happen every day. Is it fair that Brennan has anxiety? Is it fair that Rhys was the one driving when The Accident happened? IS IT FAIR YOU LOST YOUR LEG? NO.
So. So.
Jonas hated this churning, mind-whirling feeling. He was so tired, but he couldn’t sleep. In his bed at Umrath, he would look up at the ceiling and see that stupid playful patterned ceiling on the pediatric floor. He thought about Brennan, and lying next to her, and when he thought about that, he thought about his fear that she would see his leg and be what he was: disgusted.
Brennan. His girlfriend. If he’d let her be.
Three alternate endings:
1. Jonas lets Brennan go because he can never show her his leg—never trust anyone with that part of himself.
2. Jonas shows Brennan his leg, she is disgusted, she leaves, and he lets her go anyway.
3. Jonas shows Brennan his leg, and she stays.
His mom: Do you think there are perfect moments?
Jonas wasn’t sure, but he had to find out.
He called Brennan.
This time, she picked up. “Jonas!” she exclaimed, and her voice sounded just how he’d imagined it would sound.