Work in progress

A gash on her side from a close call: “I’m fine, Abram, just pass me the alcohol,” face set and ungiving.

His stomach revolting against a bad meal at an inconvenient time: “You're fine, Lucas, keep walking,” nails digging into his arm, dragging him down the crowded street.

Dark circles under her eyes after a shaky night: “I'm fine, Abram, practice your French,” sipping her coffee like he can't see her bloody cuticles.

And Neil has always been a fast learner. “I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine,” his litany walking away from a burning car, alone for the first time in his life.

“I'm fine,” to Coach Hernandez, to Coach Wymack, to the Foxes.

Is it a family heirloom they've been passing down one generation to the next for ages until Neil breaks the cycle? Did Mary have a mother who held her shoulders back from their hunch, whispered in her year, "You're fine, Mary, behave yourself" when introduced to her future husband? "You will be just fine Mary, don't make a scene" when they're packing her bags to send her to another continent?

Or did Mary have to learn to be fine all by herself? Alone on the other side of the ocean from her real home, stuck with an abusive husband and his minions in a big empty house? On the run with her son, knowing they'd be running forever or until they were caught?

Did she learn the importance of being fine for her son? "Just do as she says, you will be fine" hiding her own trepidation when Lola drags him to the basement, knives in hand and dangerous smile on her face? "It's just an Exy game, Abram, it will be fine" knowing full well it isn't? "You're fine, I'm fine" all the time on the run, trying to shelter him from the worst of it she herself cannot escape, trying to be strong for him when everything seems hopeless?