Sponsor a story at EDF - Your message can reach thousands of readers for just $4
The doctor says that water will cause the infection to bloom, and he scrawls something on a blue prescription pad, which he gives to my mother. I’ll need to take two pills a day and stay dry. My mother folds the piece of paper into a careful square, closes it in her wallet, and hugs me, whispering that it’ll be okay, that the flower won’t take root.
I shrug her off and flex my knuckle against the tan wings of the bandage. My blood is an amoeba inching across the cushioned center, and the rose thorn, extracted, lies dead between the doctor’s tweezers. I was so happy when Roger stuffed the roses into my hands.
Days pass and the bandage dries and the edges peel up with black gunk and still my mother won’t allow me to shower. One morning I forget to swallow my round white pills, and when I spoon Cheerios into my mouth they taste of soggy, sweet roses. I pick the last Os from the rim of the bowl with my fingers. I don’t tell my mother anything.
Roger offers to walk me home from school if I’m well again, and I say yes, hoping my voice isn’t shaking with joy. His glance ripples over me, all of me. He smiles big enough to crinkle his eyes and we walk together, twining our fingers, swinging our arms. I don’t ask him why he never called.
Above our heads, gray clouds curl like slinking cats, and I ignore them until the first raindrops smack the sidewalk.
I dart beneath the overhang of the town library, and Roger frowns. The rain pummels the parking lot and puddle-lakes form between cars.
Roger huddles with me for a moment, but then he steps beyond the overhang, rain soaking his shirt, globs of hair gel streaming onto his forehead. He motions for me to follow him, grinning. “Live a little. Free shower.”
I know my wound isn’t healed. I know the rain will seep beneath my bandage and something, perhaps something terrible, will happen. But I know that Roger’s hand will be warm and slippery between my fingers and that if I run, I won’t drink the raindrops alone.
So I run behind Roger, and the water fills my eyes and nose, bleeds through my clothes until even my underwear is wet and clingy. Thunder claps. Our flipflops splash waves of water, and we climb the concrete base of a parking lot lamp and swing around as it flickers. The lightning never hits us. Roger kisses me, soft on the lips, and I whisper, “Thank you for the roses.”
At home, my mother swaddles me in thick towels and phones the doctor’s pager, moaning. I close the door to my room. I’m dry now, and for the first time in days, I feel alive.
When the pain finally blossoms, it’s just a prick in my wrist. Then the prick grows, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. The blood on my tongue tastes like nectar.
I wasn’t planning to call Roger, but I pick up the phone anyway. He answers on the fourth ring and I tell him that it hurts, bad, and he’s supposed to be with me here, now, always. I hear his fingers tapping at a keyboard, and he says, “We’re together when we’re together, babe.” There’s silence, and I sit with the phone pressed to my cheek. I wonder if he can hear the pain whistling through me.
He speaks again. “C’mon, but wasn’t it worth it? It was a great night.” His fingers tap tap tap on the keys, and I remember the thrum of the rain and now, for the first time, I cry. I muffle the sounds in my sleeve. “It was crazy,” I say.
He says, “It’s going to storm again tonight, and I’m going out there.”
“With or without me?”
“Up to you,” he says.
I glance at my hand. The thorn swells beneath my skin like a fleshy shark fin and I can feel the bud forming in my marrow. I’m not sure when it will begin. But I’m not sure I know how to wait alone.
Lauren LeBano lives in Central New Jersey with her husband, some hardy plants, and way too many fish. Her work has previously appeared in Strange Horizons and is forthcoming in The Lorelei Signal.
GD Star Rating
loading...
loading...
Did you like this story?
A new and interesting story is posted every day.
A new and interesting story is posted every day.
Subscribe to the RSS Feed! (what is rss)
Don’t miss another story! Subscribe to Every Day Fiction via RSS.- Share on Facebook
26 Responses to “THE INFECTION • by Lauren LeBano”
Comments
« A LIFE IN NUMBERS • by Emily Spreng Lowery | Home | TWO KINDS OF SLEEP • by Jason Fischer »
June 25th, 2011 at 12:17 am
A remarkable balance of realism and subtle allegory. Nicely done.
June 25th, 2011 at 2:52 am
Another spook-fest. Great stuff.
June 25th, 2011 at 3:29 am
Good story.
June 25th, 2011 at 4:37 am
Great. Really inventive and quite sad…
June 25th, 2011 at 4:37 am
…if I’ve interpreted it correctly that is.
June 25th, 2011 at 6:41 am
This is brilliant. I love it in about a hundred different ways.
June 25th, 2011 at 7:16 am
Wonderfully, sadly, humanly, weird. Loved this.
June 25th, 2011 at 7:32 am
Simultaneously surreal and realistic with a fascinating premise that could be read as a metaphor for falling in love or as a demonic possession. Excellent read.
June 25th, 2011 at 8:04 am
WOW
Imaginative !!
Disturbing……….for me!
Concise , succinct
words that come to mind 4 me.
Well done….I M O
more than 5 stars for this piece Lauren
June 25th, 2011 at 8:14 am
One of the best I have read here in ages. Well done.
I wish there was a sixth star.
June 25th, 2011 at 8:37 am
Wonderful story. Rodger seems like a jerky boyfriend though.
June 25th, 2011 at 8:38 am
I don’t know what world I’m in with this one. Sign me “Confused”.
June 25th, 2011 at 8:38 am
Brilliant. Loved it.
June 25th, 2011 at 8:41 am
Agreed across the board. This is a true five star event. Superbly done.
June 25th, 2011 at 10:02 am
Great story – incredibly captivating. Can I give it 6 stars? lol
June 25th, 2011 at 10:06 am
Very, very nice.
Sweet and lovely and refreshing, but also with tantalizing thorns that prickle and bite, and just the tight amount of quirky other-world-ness that burrows and takes root in the reader’s psyche.
A wonderfully infectious story.
Well done, Lauren!
June 25th, 2011 at 10:42 am
Lauren this is great! Felt different emotions throughout the story! I loved it!!!
June 25th, 2011 at 11:08 am
Love is infectious. What a brilliant tale! Love the line “I was so happy when Roger stuffed the roses into my hands.” The use of the word stuffed is telling. Five stars from me.
June 25th, 2011 at 2:27 pm
What a wonderful story. Eerie and disturbing, yet still sweet, compelling and quite lovely. Bravo!
June 26th, 2011 at 7:20 am
Keflex QID X 10D
June 26th, 2011 at 10:49 am
@20, Agree.
June 26th, 2011 at 5:57 pm
This is one of the best stories I’ve read on EDF in a long time. I love the use of allegory without being heavy-handed. The writing is polished and succinct. Every emotional chord rings true with me, and for that I gave it five stars. Looking forward to reading more from this author.
June 26th, 2011 at 10:23 pm
An easy five stars from me. Gorgeously written and well characterized. These creepy sorts of stories are my favourite. In fact, I’m commenting for the first time because I loved this so much.
The final two sentences tripped me up for a second. The fact that the sentences begin with “I’m not sure…” and “But I’m not sure…” was a little disorienting. Understanding the intent made me think about the story as a whole, and I’m going to consider it a good thing.
June 27th, 2011 at 9:19 am
All I can do is chime in – great piece in conception and execution!
September 28th, 2011 at 6:45 am
Man, that was good!!!
November 28th, 2011 at 1:39 am
[...] method works well in many great pieces of flash fiction, such as The Infection by Lauren LeBano. In this wonderful 700-word story, our main character is warned that a cut on her [...]