You Can't Tell Me to Heal

“And can I get a small jalapeno cheese dip, too, please?” Our waitress nodded and left.
I dipped a tortilla chip into the salsa.

“Halvo, you’re spoiling me," I warned him, though I was smiling anyway. We were having dinner at La Parilla, and he knew how much I loved spicy cheese dip.

“Anything for my Sun Devil,” he said simply, draping his plaid flannel button up shirt over my shoulders. “How was therapy today, Avery?”

“Same old, same old,” I shrugged, taking a quick sip of my water and slipping Halvo’s shirt on fully. I was still in just a tank top, shorts, and sneakers. It was always cold and intensely air conditioned in La Parilla. Think about it… you eat spicy hot Mexican food, you get hot.
“Except I got bumped into on the way to the workout room. I fell on my knees and it hurt like a bitch,” I muttered, wincing at the memory of the pain. Halvo’s eyes widened in alarm. “But, I’m fine now.”

Halvo reluctantly relaxed and we began to talk about our day. Halvo had made a habit of taking me to either lunch or dinner at least once a week. Driving with my blown out knees was still rather difficult, and, as my best friend and neighbor, Halvo had no problem driving me around to wherever I needed to go. Though for the longest time, he refused to let me pay for his gas. My mom adored Halvo, but my dad left and wanted nothing to do with us when I could no longer play soccer.

“So how about meeting my friends tomorrow?” Halvo asked hopefully after dinner. We were walking to his car. Well, he was walking and carrying me on his back.

I frowned, pressing my face to his shoulder. “Eric…” Halvo grunted in disapproval. He hated when I used his real name, and I only used his real name when I was being serious or when I was angry with him. Halvo was in a band. I had no problem with band guys. I just didn’t want to look vulnerable or weak, which would probably happen because Halvo liked to carry me around all over the place. I was still Avery Lassiter, the best center midfielder Arizona State University had ever seen…in my mind.

“Fine. Until you meet them, I’m telling them you’re my girlfriend.”

I felt myself blush and slapped his chest. “Eric Halvorsen! What the hell!”

“Come on, Avery. It’s the only reasonable excuse, what with all the time we spend together,” Halvo pointed out, helping me into his car. “Come on, please, please, please?”

“Why? Have they been teasing you about being gay?” I joked, buckling up.

Halvo rolled his eyes. “They think whenever I run off to drive you around, I’m meeting my girlfriend. And, they wanna meet you.” I slumped lower in my seat. I didn’t want to be seen as "the girl with the fucked up knees." Halvo knew that. “But I can just be like, ‘Oh, my girlfriend’s really shy’ or, ‘Oh, I want my girlfriend all to myself’,” Halvo added with a smirk that I wanted to slap right off his face, pinching my cheek.

I swatted his hand away. “Ok, fine. Do that.” Halvo did a little victory dance before getting into the driver’s seat and taking me home. I kissed his cheek after he opened the door for me and slowly walked to my front porch by myself.

But I couldn’t get my mind off John. I vaguely remembered him as the guy that drank beer like a fish drinks water, smoked like a chimney…and sang like nobody’s business. In other words, not one of my crowd. But then again, I never knew John personally, so I can’t judge.

Someone was sitting on the front porch, but got up when I approached. “A-Avery?”

I had frozen, but when I could see who it was, I ran and tackled her into a hug, no matter how much my knee was killing me. “How the fuck are you, Shannon?!”