Beyond Repair Read Online Free PDF Page A

thought—but that
seemed like a good sign. And the teabags turned the boiled water a good brown
color once she’d dipped them in.
    That was the color tea was supposed to be, wasn’t it?
    “Um…how dark do you like your…” She checked the box,
quickly. “Earl Grey?”
    “How dark do I like it?”
    Uh-oh.
    “Yeah.”
    “Is Earl Grey supposed to be dark at all?”
    “I’m pretty sure it is.”
    “Medium then, I guess.”
    “Okay, this is medium.”
    In truth she had no idea, but when she sipped it none of her
limbs dropped off. She didn’t have the urge to immediately vomit, and he didn’t
seem to either once he’d taken a drink. He did, however, say the following.
    “You’ve never made tea in your life before, have you?”
    “No, I have not.”
    “It’s okay though, because I’ve never drunk it. So in all
honesty this could be poisonous, and I wouldn’t know.”
    “I’m hoping it’s not.”
    “But there’s a chance it is?”
    “I just found some old brown stuff in the fridge and stirred
it around.”
    “I thought it tasted meaty.”
    “Actually it’d be really cool if it tasted meaty. This is
disappointingly fragrant.”
    “Like sipping a flower.”
    “Right.”
    “With a hint of old man in it.”
    “Definitely.”
    “So you were going to cut me out of my jacket.”
    She’d been clutching the scissors ever since she’d brought
them in from the kitchen, but didn’t register how tightly until now. The metal
had made an imprint across her palm, though not for any reason she could think
of. She wasn’t nervous about doing this. Who’d be nervous about doing this?
    “Are you nervous about doing this?”
    God, he was really good at knowing things. That was the
second time he’d guessed stuff about her, despite the fact that people so
rarely did. Her first shrink hadn’t realized she didn’t like coffee, until one
day he’d discovered her pouring it into the potted plant. And she was pretty
sure her second one thought her fake name was Anne.
    He’d always paused before saying it, then fumbled the last
part.
    So how are you feeling today, Arglebargle?
    “Maybe just a little, tiny bit.”
    “Here. I’ll hold out an arm. Make it easy.”
    “I’m sort of afraid I’ll accidentally lop off an ear.”
    “I don’t think you’re going anywhere near the ear area.”
    “Maybe not, but I could shear off an elbow,” she said,
though she took hold of the cuff anyway. She pulled it taut in a good and
businesslike fashion, then lined up the scissors ready to cut. No muss no
fuss , she thought, despite how mussy and fussy it sort of felt. They were
very close together now—much closer than she’d imagined. If he shifted his
other arm just a little, this would practically be an embrace.
    And he was really looking at her too.
    He was looking at her so hard she couldn’t pretend he
wasn’t. She could feel his eyes stroking over the side of her face before she’d
even started.
    “Plus this jacket looks really expensive.”
    “That’s why it’s going to be soooo satisfying when you snick
those blades together,” he said, and he was right too. It was satisfying.
They made a sound like a too-tight dress splitting up the seams, and she almost
let out a relieved breath to hear it. As though the dress had been on her and
she’d been wearing it far, far too long.
    And then she cut again, and again—always feeling the meat of
his arm on one side, always aware that she could cut him if she went too fast
or moved too erratically—and after a while he was actually making that sound
that she’d imagined. “Ohhhh,” he said, when she got to the elbow. “Oh man
that’s so good.”
    She understood what he meant. The material was near
unbearable. It felt like the pelt of a dead seal peeling away, soaking wet
inside and too thickly textured. The whole thing slopped against his upper leg
as she eased it off, and forced her to think of weird and unsettling ideas. Would
she find a man underneath