groan.
“No, really, this one’s great,” Owen says. “You’ll never guess where they put the popsicle.”
“I really don’t want to know,” Liam says.
“Helen wants to know!” Owen protested. “You want to know, don’t you Helen? Don’t you want to hear about how that sweet, sweet popsicle got shoved up someone’s…”
“Hey,” I said softly, cutting him off before he can assault my eardrums again. “Can you guys both do me a favor?”
“Sure,” Owen says, and he seems suddenly attentive. He seems to know that I need him to pause his joking around for a moment.
“Okay,” I begin. “First of all, I don’t really believe that either of you are capable of considering me a friend.”
“Helen!” Liam says in angry surprise.
“Wait, listen,” I urge him. “I’m a female, and soon I’ll be your patient—I also think I’m a few years younger than you guys, although you act like adolescents. I’m also disabled. All of this would allow most people to automatically consider me inferior in several ways; it would be hard for you to consider me an equal. I know how the minds of men work. However, if you are intent on continuing this charade and pretending to be my friend, could you please stop calling me Helen? I changed my name, and I don’t like being called that.”
The men seem to be sharing an uncomfortable look as they silently disagree with my statement. I can hear the way they are looking at each other, and hear them choosing not to argue with me.
“What do you want us to call you?” Owen asks.
“Winter,” I tell him. “Please call me Winter.”
“Oh! Like the name on your books,” Owen muses. “Sure thing.”
“I don’t know if I can do that,” Liam admits. “You feel more like a Helen to me.”
“Please,” I coax him. “It really bothers me.”
“Why?” he asks again.
My lips curve upward into a smile, and I am almost certain he is peeking into the rearview mirror to examine my expression. “That’s another deep, dark secret,” I tell him, trying to make light of my own psychosis. I return to gazing out the window, even though the act is futile. I wish Liam and Owen would tell me what’s going on outside the car in the world around us. I wish I wasn’t too embarrassed to ask. I try to imagine breathtaking landscapes to distract me from Owen’s disturbing visuals, and I manage to transport myself away in my mind.
“I’m getting too tired to drive,” Liam says gruffly. “My eyes are closing. I’m sorry.”
“No worries,” I tell him. “I know you weren’t planning on doing this tonight. Sorry for roping you into it.”
“I decided to give you a ride because I wanted to. You should be at your sister’s wedding,” Liam says. His voice is laced with sleepiness as he turns to his friend. “Hey, Owen? Can you take over, man? I’m seriously fading fast here. Getting tunnel vision, and everything.”
His question is answered by a loud snore.
“Dammit,” Liam mutters.
“I wish I could take over,” I say in disappointment. “I’m wide awake.”
“Do you mind if I stop at a motel, Helen?”
I am a little annoyed that Liam won’t even attempt to call me by the name I prefer. “I think I made an error in judgment,” I inform him.
“What do you mean?” he asks,
“From the sound of your voices, I would have guessed that you guys were no older than your early thirties…”
“We’re actually both in our late twenties,” Liam tells me. “I’m 28, and he’s 29.”
“But you get tired fast,” I tease, “like old men.”
Liam laughs lightly. “I know we seem childish and carefree,” he says, “but we actually do have crazy hours. It’s Friday night, so you can bet that we both haven’t had a full night’s sleep all week.” He yawns loudly. “Okay, I can’t even make it to a motel. I saw a sign for a rest stop a few miles back, and I’ll pull over as soon as I see it. I think Owen has blankets in the
“No, really, this one’s great,” Owen says. “You’ll never guess where they put the popsicle.”
“I really don’t want to know,” Liam says.
“Helen wants to know!” Owen protested. “You want to know, don’t you Helen? Don’t you want to hear about how that sweet, sweet popsicle got shoved up someone’s…”
“Hey,” I said softly, cutting him off before he can assault my eardrums again. “Can you guys both do me a favor?”
“Sure,” Owen says, and he seems suddenly attentive. He seems to know that I need him to pause his joking around for a moment.
“Okay,” I begin. “First of all, I don’t really believe that either of you are capable of considering me a friend.”
“Helen!” Liam says in angry surprise.
“Wait, listen,” I urge him. “I’m a female, and soon I’ll be your patient—I also think I’m a few years younger than you guys, although you act like adolescents. I’m also disabled. All of this would allow most people to automatically consider me inferior in several ways; it would be hard for you to consider me an equal. I know how the minds of men work. However, if you are intent on continuing this charade and pretending to be my friend, could you please stop calling me Helen? I changed my name, and I don’t like being called that.”
The men seem to be sharing an uncomfortable look as they silently disagree with my statement. I can hear the way they are looking at each other, and hear them choosing not to argue with me.
“What do you want us to call you?” Owen asks.
“Winter,” I tell him. “Please call me Winter.”
“Oh! Like the name on your books,” Owen muses. “Sure thing.”
“I don’t know if I can do that,” Liam admits. “You feel more like a Helen to me.”
“Please,” I coax him. “It really bothers me.”
“Why?” he asks again.
My lips curve upward into a smile, and I am almost certain he is peeking into the rearview mirror to examine my expression. “That’s another deep, dark secret,” I tell him, trying to make light of my own psychosis. I return to gazing out the window, even though the act is futile. I wish Liam and Owen would tell me what’s going on outside the car in the world around us. I wish I wasn’t too embarrassed to ask. I try to imagine breathtaking landscapes to distract me from Owen’s disturbing visuals, and I manage to transport myself away in my mind.
“I’m getting too tired to drive,” Liam says gruffly. “My eyes are closing. I’m sorry.”
“No worries,” I tell him. “I know you weren’t planning on doing this tonight. Sorry for roping you into it.”
“I decided to give you a ride because I wanted to. You should be at your sister’s wedding,” Liam says. His voice is laced with sleepiness as he turns to his friend. “Hey, Owen? Can you take over, man? I’m seriously fading fast here. Getting tunnel vision, and everything.”
His question is answered by a loud snore.
“Dammit,” Liam mutters.
“I wish I could take over,” I say in disappointment. “I’m wide awake.”
“Do you mind if I stop at a motel, Helen?”
I am a little annoyed that Liam won’t even attempt to call me by the name I prefer. “I think I made an error in judgment,” I inform him.
“What do you mean?” he asks,
“From the sound of your voices, I would have guessed that you guys were no older than your early thirties…”
“We’re actually both in our late twenties,” Liam tells me. “I’m 28, and he’s 29.”
“But you get tired fast,” I tease, “like old men.”
Liam laughs lightly. “I know we seem childish and carefree,” he says, “but we actually do have crazy hours. It’s Friday night, so you can bet that we both haven’t had a full night’s sleep all week.” He yawns loudly. “Okay, I can’t even make it to a motel. I saw a sign for a rest stop a few miles back, and I’ll pull over as soon as I see it. I think Owen has blankets in the
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