Restore Me

You can call me the supreme commander of North America,”

I mean, what you just did? That’s Kenji’s thing. And he’s not good at sharing the spotlight, generally.”

and my befriending this idiot

You really don’t remember me, do you?”

Why am I always getting involved in other people’s personal shit? Why can’t I just mind my own business? Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut?”

“You know,” I say to him, tilting my head slightly, “I’ve always wondered the same thing.”

“Shut up.”

I smile, big. Lightbulb bright.

Kenji’s eyes widen, surprised, and he laughs. He nods at my face and says, “Aw, you’ve got dimples. I didn’t know that. That’s cute.”

“Shut up.” I frown. “Go away.”

“I’m very tired,” I say to him. “Please go directly to hell.”

“What?” I slap at the air. Laugh. “I don’t drink. My father is an alcoholic, didn’t you know? I don’t touch the stuff. No, wait”—I hold up a finger—“was an alcoholic. My father was an alcoholic. He’s dead now. Quite dead

“Oh.” I look away, newly irritated. “That.” The many, many scars that make up the disfiguration of my entire back. I take a deep breath. Exhale. “Those are just, you know, birthday gifts from dear old dad.”

And how is that news to anyone?”

I smile. He’s funny, I think. Funny guy

Because I,” I say, pointing at myself, “am a monster.”