All Chapters of The Broadfoot Adjustment: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Colin and I saw each other that Monday during our psychology class. Instead of paying attention to the lecture, we’d passed my notebook back and forth, making our packing list for the Wexford Outdoors camping trip. He’d crossed out “tent” on my list and said we could share his. The previous weekend had left us both yearning for each other. Colin usually had rugby practice on weeknights and the rest of our class schedules conflicted most of the time. He placed his hand on my thigh during class.“If you two can’t keep your hands off each other for 50 minutes, then don’t come to my lecture,” our professor yelled at us. Colin quickly removed his hand and we resumed paying attention to the PowerPoint. The universe seemed to keep throwing obstacles in the way of our physical connection.“What are you doing this Friday,” Colin asked as we shuffled out of the lecture hall together.“Jenny was talking about a concert or something,” I said. My friend from my dorm had mentioned that she and her

Jenny left to grab us some pregame drinks and I started to get ready. Though it was going to be chilly, I opted for my shortest denim miniskirt with Uggs and of course *the* sweatshirt. For the afterparty, I wore a lace trimmed cami that made my tits look fantastic and exposed just enough midriff to show off my flat stomach. I straightened my hair and side parted it then french braided the long part across the front. Lauren Conrad had just rocked that look on Laguna Beach and I was obsessed. I mimicked her black eyeliner and bronzer and checked myself out in the mirror. "Would you fuck me, I'd fuck me," I joked around with Jenny, doing my best worst Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs impression. My cell beeped from my desk and I checked to see what it was. Rebecca. I really didn’t feel like dealing with her or her weird boyfriend, Justin. They were downright sloppy at the concert and I really didn’t want them to ruin tonight’s energy."Hey girl," she started, "I'm headed down to

14 hours later and I’d landed in the future, in Tokyo. I couldn’t believe I’d slept the entire flight, I must have needed it. So much for Fodor’s, I thought as I tucked the book back into my carryon. I glanced at the elderly woman sitting next to me. Her formally catatonic expression was gone; her chocolate eyes twinkling as they looked directly at me.“Don’t run off course, child,” she said quietly. “Excuse me?” I asked the old woman, confused but her expression turned back to stone as quickly as our interaction had taken place. Strange, I thought and was relieved to see a younger companion helping her from her seat and into a wheelchair. I had felt comforted by her presence; how else did I manage to relax and rest for 14 hours straight on a flight?A driver in a full chauffeur uniform greeted myself and a few other Wexford students at the gate. I hadn’t recognized any of them but hoped at least one of them would be a good buddy to explore with. Once we were all accounted for, the d

I wasn't home anymore. My body ached all over. I opened my eyes and saw my left leg and arm in clean, white plaster casts, gently elevated from the ceiling. An IV bag dripped fluids into my arm. The hospital was immaculately clean. A nurse hurried over to me. "Miss, miss," she said, gently shaking my shoulder. I winced in pain. "Name please, miss."Tears began to stream silently down my face. I wanted to go home, back to that home.Unsure of myself at that moment and not fully grasping where I was, I responded. "Cabrey Mills."Back at WexfordColin's phone rang on the hospital table. He had been in a coma for the past 5 days, his body recovering from being jumped by a group of deadbeat townies. They’d beaten him nearly to death. His mother looked at the caller ID. It was definitely international but she didn't recognize the country code nor was the number saved in her son's phone. She knew that the girl her son had fallen for was missing in Tokyo. She had been thankful she hadn't had

I spent the next few days at home with dad in a state of alcohol-induced numbness. Mom’s favorite drink was a chilled Titos with a lemon and I kept my tumbler full of it while reconciling being simultaneously grief stricken and angry at someone who is no longer with you. I felt robbed of time I could have spent with her, had I known. I shuffled through her desk, looking for clues as to what was going through her mind while I was away. I found every graphic design project I’d done in Japan proudly hung up inside the desk’s hutch, with a photograph of her, Colin and I, taken while out to brunch. I found solace that she had been proud enough of my accomplishments and had liked Colin enough to display them in what little room she had on her crowded bulletin board. Dad and I went through the motions of delivering the news to relatives and making cremation arrangements with the funeral home. Mom hadn't wanted a service; she simply wanted to be scattered at sea, at Wrightsville Beach. I ha