Roy slowly sank into the washtub filled with hot water.  His body ached and his head pounded. His mind was a fog. He pulled his knees close to him and closed his eyes. Roy wanted so desperately to forget the humiliating incident with MacKenzie the day before. The laceration on his thigh probably would have stung now and he wished it would've. It was only a wish.

Instead he ran his index finger along the jagged edge and around the numerous cigarette burns he inflicted upon himself in a futile attempt to conjure a response.

A feeling.

Anything. Anything to remember that his body still existed. That he was still alive. Alive and kicking.

 Well, to a certain degree.

His stitches itched and his spine throbbed. Still it wasn't enough. He wanted to do it again. To dig the glass in deeper into his numb thigh, to do something, to hit a, nerve?

 Each time he stopped himself. He dared not to. Roy was petrified of MacKenzie finding him again. In a worse condition. How would he explain to a nurse why he had a shard of glass sticking out of his paralyzed leg in an obvious self-inflicted manor? She wouldn't buy any of his excuses. She wouldn't pity him either. She'd tell him to get over it. And Roy felt she would walk in the bathroom at any second. It wasn't a paranoid thought either. Because she was already there.

A knock at the door.

"You're not drowned in there, are you?"

Roy sighed, running his fingers through his damp hair.

"So help me god, Roy Walker."

"Just a minute." His voice was hoarse. He zoned out. It happened more often than Roy wanted to admit. He was terrified yet again that he'd fall between the  bathtub and wheelchair naked and moist. This was the first time since being discharged that he was allowed to bathe alone. The thought of strangers around him in the hospital treating him like another piece of property infuriated him. He wished he had locked the door. He was tired of feeling like half a person. He could do things on his own.

MacKenzie's second visit was unexpected. She had left him the day before, work to do. And just as dawn began Roy had heard a door open. He needed to remember to lock it next time.

"Wake the fuck up," MacKenzie had mumbled, coarse language for a lady. She did so firmly, but with a smile. She casually walked into Roy's room as if it was her own place, a proud peacock dressed in a sleeveless sundress. Calves showing. Hair back. A slight sunburn on her cheeks. Roy was sweating. She threw clean clothes on his bed. She unexpectedly laid next to him and crossed her legs. She'd noticed he was still in his bloodstained trousers and was disappointed. And rolled her eyes. They were quite, quite blue. Bluer than the pacific.

"Roy."

He buttoned the last button on his shirt and slowly cracked open the door.

"I told you just a minute."

"Yeah, well I've grown impatient, and we have a lot to do today."

"That's too bad," Roy wheeled passed her. "I was looking forward to wallowing in my self-pity all day."

"You look decent," MacKenzie remarked in approval and ignoring his comment.

Roy shaved his face. Put effort into his appearance. Made himself look like a somewhat acceptable human being. MacKenzie had thrown clothes at him. Somewhat dapper. Casual. Appropriate for wherever she was bringing him by force. Like a trying mother or overbearing aunt. Getting him to do something. Achieve something. To not waste away. To be alive. To contribute to society in some way that he wasn't obsolete. It seemed like that's how society made all handicapped people out to be. From what he had heard. And observed. Roy refused to be that way.

"Alright, let's go." MacKenzie stopped to glance at her lithe and slender reflection in the standing mirror. She was graceful even motionless. Roy wondered why she chose to live a life taking care of others rather than act in moving pictures. She would've made a better It Girl. He then realized it wasn't herself she was gazing at with a sly smile. She was looking at Roy, and he couldn't even stomach looking at himself without becoming disgusted. He was half expecting a patronizing pat on the head but was taken back when she came down to his level and pressed her lipstick stained lips onto his. It wasn't a sympathy kiss, Roy could tell. He wanted it to be real.

There was a crack on Roy's face. He had forgotten what it was. Teeth. Whiter than he thought. A feeling. A reminder. For one split second. A smile.

"You didn't plan this well."

The unfortunate stairs going into the building.

"Right. Hold on." A yellow car was parked next to the sidewalk.

"I didn't know you drive."

"You expect me to walk everywhere in LA?"

"Fair enough."

MacKenzie opened the passenger door and hurried back to Roy. He scanned his surroundings uneasily.

"You're not going to-"

"Don't worry about it and shut your mouth."

"What?"

MacKenzie smiled and quickly put her arms around Roy.

"MacKenzie-"

"Shh." She effortlessly dragged him across the sidewalk before Roy could protest.

Roy glanced around as he situated himself in the passenger seat. No one. He hadn't even noticed MacKenzie shutting the back door after putting his wheelchair in.

"You uh, you do that a lot."

"It happens," MacKenzie shrugged.

Roy couldn't tell if hardened veterans and sailors in the pub were staring because his present circumstances or the fact that a young woman was entering a bar. And he ordered them both cider anyway, and she lit them both a cigarette without flinching. Or noticing her lipstick was smeared or that attractive men were staring at her, or Roy, or both of them.

"Is this a date?"

"No," MacKenzie chuckled.

Roy couldn't figure out how girls worked.

"Mixed signals, Kenz."

"Did you just..."

"What, is that a problem?"

"No, my brother always used to call me..."

"He wouldn't approve of you in the company of a crippled stuntman, would he."

MacKenzie laughed and put out her cigarette. She changed the subject. "I got you out of bed today-"

"So you could what, so we could, is this a date?"

"I thought it would be nice to do something. I wanted to get you out. Maybe start looking for a job for you."

"Oh, this is what it's about."

"Why, you thought this was a date?"

"Is it a date?"

"Do you want to make it a date?"

"Mixed signals."

"I know how the rent is in that apartment. I don't want you to get kicked out."

"So you forced me into the outside world to a bar to find a job. Please, you really think they'd hire me? What could I possibly do for them?"

"The bar? Ha, not the bar. This is the date. Job hunting is after the date."

Roy was now convinced the kiss earlier was real.