Page 47 - WTP VOl. XIII #2

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Xiomara, Via’s coworker of a year and a half, used to be the type of person who would sling an underhand- ed comment at her when her hair looked bad, but since she’s gotten pregnant, she’s decided that she actually wants to be friends. That’s why she’s in the bathroom, pumping the paper towel dispenser every 30 seconds with her fingers clamped over her nose.
Via tries not to notice that while she’s cleaning up, she’s getting shit under her fingernails. “You don’t have to be here, you know.”
“Maternal instinct.”
“I’m a year older than you.” “Whatever.”
Via would probably rather be alone in this situation, but her brother Isra’s been really vocal about how her anti-social reactions to basically everything has been killing the vibe lately, so she’s trying to convince herself that Xiomara’s presence is comforting.
“Can I ask you something?” Xiomara’s voice is all small, and Via braces herself for impact.
“Go for it.”
“Have you ever, like... I don’t know, I mean this in a super nice way because I promise I don’t notice but all our patients are at their most vulnerable when they’re here—”
Via cuts in. “No offense but can you get to the point.” “Haveyoueverconsideredlikecoveringyoureyeup.”
Actually, this is the opposite of comforting. Without thinking about it, Via makes eye contact with herself in the mirror. One dark eye, one milky white lens and stringy red blood vessels. “Like with what?”
Xiomara’s so uncomfortable that she’s stopped clamping her nose shut with her fingers. “I don’t know. Like, an eye patch?”
HR, Via reminds herself. HR. She chooses her words wisely. “I cannot pull off an eye patch.” Xiomara’s mouth is half-open, forming a reply, but Via beats her to the punch. “Yes, I have tried.”
Xiomara makes an awfully pitiful noise. Via would rather focus on the vomit.
“Usually the folks in middle-age take her
eye the worst because they really try and look at both eyes and the rapid-fire back-and-forth dance their eyes do gives Via motion sickness.”
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