J O N A S

Every week, Jonas's mom asked him to go on some errand or another with her. Every time before, Jonas had declined. Since school had gotten out, he'd only gone to the follow up visits with his doctor. Since he hadn't worn the prosthetic leg since he'd originally gotten it, he hadn't followed up with the prosthetist, or the therapist, for quite some time.

This was why both Jonas and his mom were surprised when she asked if he wanted to go to the grocery store with her for the weekly grocery shopping, and he said yes.

His residual leg was relatively sore from the over-exertion yesterday...The last time it had had to bear any weight was when he'd first been fitted for the prosthesis, and he hadn't used it since then. Jonas stood in front of the mirror on his closet door, hunched over his crutches. Fake leg? No fake leg? He shifted his weight. He'd always hated the way it felt, like he was standing on one leg even with the crutches. When you used crutches for a twisted ankle or something, there was still the feeling of a leg there, no empty space throwing off your balance...As much as Jonas hated the prosthesis, it felt less like he was hopping around on one leg.

He decided to wear it, but to still use the crutches. If anyone asked, he could say he'd sprained his ankle or something. He'd found the stump sock, at least. Stuck in an old box of winter sweaters at the back of his closet.

Once he was actually in the passenger seat of his mom's minivan, he somewhat regretted agreeing to come along. What was I thinking? He asked himself. He massaged his leg absentmindedly, that pins and needles sensation there again, this time in his toes (his toes that weren't really there anymore). He hated the phantom sensations. It was bad enough to feel pain, but to feel pain in a limb that wasn't there? It was disembodied and, in Jonas's mind, kind of creepy.

"Bird?" His mom's voice was hesitant. "Are you all right?" They stopped at a stoplight and she turned to look at him in concern. 

Jonas snapped out of his thoughts, recognizing the stoplight as the one he'd rear-ended the girl, Brennan, at.

"Fine, Mom," he said, giving her a small smile. He thought this one might look a little more real than usual.

She seemed satisfied and continued on when the light turned green.

Jonas thought about the Act of Leaving the House. He'd felt oddly proud of himself for leaving the other day, even if he was overall disappointed in what the result of that expedition had been. He'd left, gone out and that was what had mattered. The last time he'd been out of the house for something other than school or appointments had been before the accident. It felt...good, which was surprising. Jonas had mentally promised himself to try again sometime. He just hadn't expected to be trying again so soon.

His mom parked the car, and they walked in together...or rather, Jonas crutched inside while his mom walked. He received a few glances, but not nearly as many as he would have if he had just left his pants leg empty and the prosthetic leg at home. His jeans covered the metal, and he almost felt normal. Almost.

By the time they reached the end of the second aisle, his mom crossing things off on her list as she got them (Jonas's mom always wrote her lists by aisle number—milk, eggs, cheese: aisle one; canned beans, corn, tomatoes: aisle two; etc—he thought it was rather smart), he had begun to notice his mom casting glances sideways at him as they walked.

"What?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

"Are you...tired at all?"

Jonas's frown deepened slightly, but he sighed and said "No, Mom. I'm fine." He was always fine. What did 'fine' even mean? Fine was such a lie.

But his mom nodded and continued on.

Truth be told, Jonas was getting a little tired. The last time he'd been up on the crutches this much was when he'd been in school. Even then, he'd had a wheelchair for when he just couldn't take the crutches anymore (he'd used it as little as possible, but there had been days, especially at the beginning, where he was in so much pain that he'd given in). After the school year had ended, he'd gotten around mostly by hopping on one foot, propping himself on the wall, if he had to get somewhere in the house, occasionally using the crutches when he was feeling particularly lazy, or when his mom was watching. Using crutches for a prolonged amount of time was more uncomfortable than he had remembered.

His mom seemed happy to have Jonas here with her, though, and that was worth the slight discomfort.

His mom came across something on her list that she hadn't ever bought before, and therefore didn't know where in the store it was.

Chipotle Peppers in Adobo.

Jonas would have just looked for the peppers until he found them, heaven forbid he had to ask anyone until he'd exhausted every effort on his own. His mom, however, had no problem flagging down the closest sales associate.

Jonas stood a little ways behind her, kind of wishing he were a little farther way, because she was gesturing at him suspiciously. What in the world was she telling this stranger?

He glanced up, just in time to see a familiar messy hair bun (familiar wild tendrils escaping at the ears) and blue uniform shirt-black pants combo. Jonas's eyes widened, before he immediately returned his gaze to the floor, hoping she—hoping Brennan wouldn't recognize him. He stared at the little hole in her left sneaker.

Meanwhile, his mom was trying to chat the girl's ear off, telling her about the recipe she was making, as if that were required background information in the search for the canned chipotle peppers. Jonas would have just said "Excuse me, do you have canned chipotle peppers in adobo?" That is, if he had asked at all. His mom was turning it into Elise Avery and the Quest for Chipotles in Adobo.

Finally, Brennan found enough of a pause in the conversation so that she could comfortably insert her reply without accidentally interrupting Jonas's mom. Jonas had been watching her, and the way she kept going to say something and ended up just smiling and nodding at something Jonas's mom had said. When he looked at her more closely, he could see what appeared to be panic growing in her eyes. She looked trapped. Go ahead, interrupt her, Jonas mentally urged her. It's ok. Do it now. "I know we have them," Brennan finally said. "I'm just not sure where they are." Jonas wondered if she hadn't been working there long. "I can find someone who knows for you, though, if you come with me..." Brennan was continuing, and his mom was smiling.

Of course, Jonas's mom followed her. Brennan walked too quickly. She kept turning around and making comments to his mom, as if trying to fill the silence on the walk to wherever they were going. She laughed awkwardly after most of the comments. Jonas wanted to say It's ok. You don't have to talk. It's all right, because he felt like she wanted to be anywhere but there, leading them around the store. She walked too quickly, and no matter how hard he tried, he realized (with frustration building within him) that he couldn't keep up. His armpits ached. The joys of crutches.

His mother glanced back at him. He gestured for her to keep going, but slowed down, following them at a distance.

Eventually, they apparently found someone who was able to tell his mother where the chipotles were. Brennan departed (as quickly as possible, Jonas noticed).

Thank God, he thought, relaxing slightly. He wasn't sure if he was relaxing on her behalf, or letting go of the unspoken worry he'd had that she'd somehow reveal their fender bender to his mother.

They visited every other aisle of the store. Jonas wondered why they hadn't just looked in every aisle for the chipotles as they shopped, instead of asking someone (instead of asking her). Of all the people. He felt a little bit bad about still not having told his mom about the accident, but he still thought it was for the better. He couldn't stand it if she felt any more guilt because of him. A small part of him whispered Or do you just not want to feel any more guilt over all the things she now worries about because of you?

After the aisle shopping came the specialty shopping. Which meant that Jonas's mom went to buy fresh ground beef (how much fresher can it be than what they have in the packages? It's not like they butcher a cow in the back of the store, thought Jonas, who would rather have spared himself from the conversation that ensued when the guy behind the counter asked what had happened (Sports injury? Sports injury.)) and salmon fillets.

The next stop was the deli. His mom ordered a pound each of sliced ham and turkey, and a pound of provolone cheese (Jonas's favorite, because it didn't really have a strong cheesy taste) and then left Jonas to wait for the cold cuts while she went off to order a cake for Taylor's birthday (a week away, but better to get the order in early, she'd said).

Jonas zoned out somewhat, watching the deli worker slicing the meat for the person who had been in line in front of him...back and forth, back and forth. He was rather amazed that the worker hadn't managed to slice off his own fingers. Jonas wondered what it would be like to be fingerless and legless. He also wondered if his mom felt relieved to leave him behind for a bit and walk at a normal pace over to the bakery.

"So...You're pretty accident prone."

He started, and turned to face none other than Brennan. She was wearing a ridiculous hairnet that looked like a mesh shower cap.

She seemed to mistake his blank look for his having not understood her statement. "You know," she explained, awkwardly (everything about Brennan was awkward). "First the fender bender, and now the crutches..." She frowned, pushing her glasses up her nose a bit and studying him, but not making eye contact (she always seemed to end up looking at his ears. He suddenly felt self-conscious about them.) "What'd you do anyways?" she asked.

"Soccer injury," Jonas said, trying not to think about his ears and whether or not they stuck out. "Tore my ACL and meniscus." Back before Jonas's Great Tragedy, one of his friends had been out for the season because of that same injury...good enough as any for Jonas to borrow.

Brennan raised an eyebrow. "You've certainly had a rough week."

"Yes," he said. "You could say that." Rough year, but who was counting?

"So," she said, silent for a moment, before continuing. "The dent popped out of my car...good as new."

"Really?" he said, shifting his weight from one crutch to the other. "That's good."

"Yeah," she said. Silence reigned once more. The other deli worker was just getting to his mom's order. "So what brings you to the grocery store today? You'd think most people with torn ACLs would be at home, relaxing."

Jonas shrugged. "I came to the grocery store for the same reason most people do." He deadpanned. "To get groceries."

Brennan rolled her eyes, but he caught the small smile that turned her lips. It almost made him smile. Almost.

"Brennan," called the other deli worker. "Slice one pound of provolone, sandwich slices."

"Sure," said Brennan, taking the block of cheese and heading to the other slicer along the counter.

After a few moments, Jonas moved down the counter to watch. "That's for me," he said, inclining his head towards the cheese.

"Provolone, eh?" she said. "One of the less distinctly flavored cheeses..."

"I know," he said. "That's why I like it."

"You need to expand your cheese horizons."

"How so?"

She finished his cheese and bagged it up, slapping a price sticker on it. Jonas's mom wasn't back yet.

"I mean, try something new."

"Why try something new when I know what I like already?" He said, frowning. Which isn't much lately.

Brennan laughed softly as she reached for two cheeses from the deli case. "Live a little," she said, slicing a piece of each cheese and handing the slices to him. "I'm authorized to give you a free sample. Try these."

Jonas tried the first cheese. It was surprisingly good, although the orange on the outside edge was kind of suspicious looking, at least in Jonas's opinion. "It's...decent..." he said, nodding as if in approval.

"Don't be stubborn; you liked it," said Brennan. Jonas shrugged. "It's Muenster," she added. She handed him a second cheese. "This one is Baby Swiss."

Jonas liked that one pretty well too, and he told Brennan so, somewhat begrudgingly.

She smiled. "I thought you might like them. They both have milder flavors, not too unlike provolone."

"Well aren't you a regular cheese expert," he said, sarcastically.

She shrugged, handing him his order of meat and cheese, now finished. "You pick things up working in the deli. Have a nice day, I guess. Hope I don't run into you again. Or rather...I hope you don't run into me."

Jonas rolled his eyes. "Har har har. Aren't you hilarious."

Brennan's smile left her lips, but Jonas could see that her eyes were still laughing. They were kind of nice that way, brown and shining. His mom was back then, taking the meat and cheese from him. So he nodded to Brennan, and followed his mom to the checkout counter.