Louise by Louise Krug

you.” She had thought it was a strange thing to say. She had never thought he would.
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    Davy gets back to her. He feels bad for her, she can tell by his tone, even though she dumped him for a guy named Claude. Davy says he’ll take Louise to one of his guitar-playing gigs, that he’ll come and pick her up in the camper.
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    Louise remembers the camper—she’d gone with Davy to pick it up at his father’s place out in the country. It was parked between a bunch of four-wheelers and a wooden swingset. His dad was on his second round of kids.
    She is nervous before their date. Her scar runs from the top of her scalp to the nape of her neck, so she wears her hair down, hoping it doesn’t show. She waits on her building’s steps.
    Louise would sometimes drive the camper. The steering wheel was the size of a pizza and the seat was huge and leather, a captain’s chair. They called it a spaceship. On weekend trips to Missouri or Arkansas, through national parks and hill country, they slept on the second story, in the cubby above the front seats. They’d leave the air-conditioning on all night. Once, they visited some friends of Davy’s in Little Rock, a married couple who lived in a trailer with quilts and clipped coupons tacked on the walls. The woman had served baked chicken that was pink and bloody inside.
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    Louise shouldn’t be drinking yet, but this is her first party since the Incident, and Davy is playing. He moves his body the way guitar players do, thrashing. He and the other musicians make bad jokes into the microphone and drink from the same bottle of whiskey.
    After his set, he and Louise stand outside on the lawn. Louise tosses her cane into the bushes. Davy smiles and holds out his arm. He is a good person, with clothes that are purposefully a little too small. She turns her face so only the good side shows. He says she looks very thin. He says she is a poor thing, and waves to someone walking by. He pushes his yellow hair around. Louise wants to touch his hair but can’t because of the cups they hold and the rule about touching an ex. Let them touch you first.
    Now they are back in the camper. The wallpaper is peeling, and it smells like cheese snacks and dampness. She settles back on the couch, and sets her special glasses on the window ledge. This is better, she thinks. She has some great feelings. Davy remains in the passenger seat. Louise talks to the back of his head, asking him to remember karaoke night, how they made the whole audience cheer. She thinks that happened, anyway. He says nothing. She reminds him of how he liked to undress her in the camper and throw her clothes out the window. These are her best thoughts. He keeps his feet on the dashboard. It is getting a little light out. It is getting pretty bad. She sees his head on his knees. She kneels down beside the passenger seat and waits. “Davy?” she says quietly. He says this will never happen. He says he is sorry.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
    W arner emails Louise the link to the Myers-Briggs personality test. He sets her up with someone in Kansas who finds her aptitude for certain careers. A librarian or some sort of nurse come up a lot. Warner encourages her when she talks of going to graduate school, seeing new physical therapists, starting a part-time job. He imagines her doing light clerical work, something that keeps her mind occupied, makes her feel productive. But he doesn’t want to pressure her, doesn’t want her to think she’s not already succeeding. He waits for her phone calls and tries to be enthusiastic about whatever she’s done that day.
    Elizabeth mails Louise packages of inspirational books about women overcoming obstacles. She gets on the line with Warner when Louise calls, tells her the latest family news—who adopted a baby or whose birthday is coming up. She invites Louise to come back to Michigan for quick weekend trips, to see fine museum