I stand in my bedroom staring at the radiator. I kick it, which only hurts more with cold feet. Someone rings the bell. I limp to the door and let Y in. She stalks straight passed into the kitchen. I limp after.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask as she rummages through my cabinets.
“Do you have salt?”
I shrug. “It’s a kitchen.”
She rolls her eyes and continues to look. I sit down and start rubbing my toes.
“Why do you need salt?”
“I need to take a shower.”
I stop rubbing my foot–frown. “What?”
“I need to take a shower, a salt shower.”
I forget my foot entirely. “What the hell does that mean?”
“I need to take a shower, with salt,” she finds it behind a box of tea, pulls it down. “Some bitch in class was complimenting me way too much.”
I don’t know what to ask next so I just say, “huh?”
She takes her jacket off and throws it over a chair. “She jinxed me so I need to shower with salt. No one compliments you that much unless they plan to jinx you, so you need to shower with salt to protect against the jinx.”
She reads my face correctly and elaborates, “my brother has to do it all the time–he is very good looking so he has to take salt showers when women at work hit on him because they will go to witches and jinx him to love them. But, he loves his wife.”
I look down at my foot, it is bruised around the nail, bleeding a bit. Y comes and looks at it, closer.
“Government hasn’t turn the heat on yet, then?”
I sigh, “no. Can we jinx the government?”
She shakes her head, “I’m sure they’d never forget their salt showers. If anything, they keep a shaker just beside the soap.”
With that, she takes up the canister of salt and heads for the bathroom. I limp back to my room to stare grumpily at my cold, dead radiator.