The Book of Daniel Read Online Free PDF

much.”
    “That’s good, because it’s not just for you. You can share with me and the other refs, and we eat like the athletes we are.” He grinned. “It won’t go to waste.”
    “Thank you.” I hefted the bag and pushed through the front door. “Car’s this way.”
    Jake nodded and followed me. To get to the car, of course we had to pass by the firehouse. I noticed some of the crew out cleaning the truck, stretching and sweating in the midafternoon sun. I didn’t see Cam among them, but even as I walked by—trying not to search for him—I realized I could still hear him say Daniel in that velvety dulcet voice he’d used on me that morning and even the memory made me shiver.
    Who would have thought such an immense and vibrant boy-man could be so tender?
    A vaguely disquieting yearning was building inside me to investigate that further. Maybe I would, later—or maybe I wouldn’t.
    Things could get complicated quickly between me and a man like Cam.
    When Jake and I got to the car, he insisted that he should drive. I think he just liked to drive my car, so I flipped him the plastic electronic key.
    “Are you getting used to driving an automatic now?” he asked, once we got in.
    “I miss the IS F and its racing transmission. I miss zero to sixty in less than five seconds.”
    “That wasn’t a car. That was a gasoline-powered penis.”
    “I know . That accident emasculated me.”
    “Not from what I’ve heard.”
    “I was speaking metaphorically. Physically, not so much.” Recent memories made me own up to the truth. Not so much was an understatement. I admitted—if only to myself—I’d been enjoying a true free-for-all of casual sex.
    Jake started my new GS. It really was a gorgeous car. Deep sea mica blue with gray leather seats and bird’s-eye maple accents. It had all the bells and whistles. No one in their right mind would put on the pity-party hat while riding around in a machine like that, but I was so fucked-up I couldn’t get attached to it.
    “I think you may just be confused, Dan. You’re unhappy about your car because you think you have to be glad you kept your hand. And maybe what you really miss is—”
    “Thank you, Dr. Freud.”
    “Freud would have called your old car your compensatory penis and left it at that. You know I’m right. It’s okay to be angry, but you’ve chosen your battle unwisely here. Don’t take it out on this sweet honey of a car. It kills me. You don’t deserve her at all.”
    “And you do?”
    “I cherish her.” He teased. “She’s my preciousssss.”
    “You can wash her next time then.”
    “Oh, yeah. I’ll wash her.” He leered at the steering wheel and started stroking it like a lover. “I’ll get her all soaped up and slippery and use my big, fluffy microfiber towel on her. That’s what I’ll do.”
    “You’re starting to creep me out.” I knew he was right. Well, not to anthropomorphize a car like that, but that I should be glad I had both my hand and a new car. My doctor thought someday I’d be able to drive a manual again. Maybe. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. Everything mattered. What I’d lost, how long it was taking me to recover. Everything.
    Simple, stupid skills I had never given a single thought to until it became necessary to use them, only to find that I no longer had them—like eating with chopsticks.
    “It’s taking a while to adjust, Jake. Sometimes it feels like I lose something new every day.”
    “The adjustments will bottom out. You’ll find yourself on an upswing soon. You’ll gain new skills and regain old ones. In the meantime, I’m here for you if need me to drive you anywhere. We could try looking for a doctor in New York if you aren’t entirely satisfied with the docs at Cedars in LA. I could drive you in your car.”
    I could always count on Jake to lighten a mood. “Thanks. We’re doing okay. Me and my Frankenstein hand. Still scaring the faint of heart with its patchwork appearance,