Alex woke up to a dark room, the sun long gone, a small reading lamp the only source of light in the room. As he sat up, he groaned, the pain throbbing on his cheekbone and hip strong and vibrant.
“How are you?” a quiet voice asked, making him jump.
Josie leaned into the light, her legs curled under her. She was reading a book off his shelf, a piece of creative nonfiction about the history of ether.
“Shit! You scared me. I…uh…what time is it?”
She checked a phone. His phone. “Almost eight.”
“I slept that long?”
“You needed it.”
He winced, his face hurting and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth like Velcro. As if she read his mind, she unfolded herself, went to the kitchen, and came back with a huge glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. “You might want these.”
Shaking two tablets out, he swallowed them greedily, then drank half the water. “Thank you,” he said, deeply grateful. “You stayed here with me? The whole time?”
“I wanted to make sure that you didn’t bang your head too hard. Just figured I’d be here until you woke up.” She stood, setting the book aside. “So…”
“No! Don’t leave!” he begged. “I’m…just wait.”
She froze. Alex knew that the wrong words wouldn’t work here, but he didn’t much care anymore about being perfect. What he needed was to be real. Not talking about the stress at work, jumping to ridiculous conclusions, not calling her and apologizing were all dick moves, and he'd known it then—but it was blatantly obvious now.
“I’m sorry, Josie. Deeply sorry. And I’m even more sorry that it’s taken me this long to apologize.” He stood, his hip screaming, but his mobility had improved from the nap as he carefully took three steps closer to her. Running his hand through his hair, he added, “I wish I could turn back the clock.”
Her eyes bored into his as she evaluated him. Trust wasn’t easy for her, he knew—and he’d proven that he wasn’t worthy of it. Given time, maybe, he could unprove that.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
So much unsaid hung in the air between them, like ephemeral storm clouds at sunset, unpredictable yet hovering, ready to waft off with a breeze or unleash a storm.
No one could guess which outcome was most likely.
She took a step closer. He did, too.
“I don’t feel like I need to apologize,” Josie said.
“You don’t.”
“But I do feel like I should say…something. About our somethinging.”
“Our what?”
She brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and his heart melted. “Somethinging. It’s a joke between me and Laura. She asked me what you and I were doing a while ago and I said we were somethinging. I didn’t have a name for it.”
“Ah.” They were getting somewhere. Josie wasn’t walking away, or stomping off angry, or worse—indifferent.
“Alex, I’ve never met a man like you before.” She frowned. “Or, if I have, I’ve driven men like you away on purpose.”
“Why?”
“Because, as I told Darla today, I’m too f**ked up to be with someone who is normal.”
“No, you’re—”
She held up a palm. He shut up. “She told me to unfuckup myself.”
He laughed. It hurt. He winced. “Good advice.”
“Before I can be with you, then, I need to unfuckup myself. Meeting your mother today is one example. Alex, I was so scared that day you told me you wanted me to meet her,” she explained.
“Scared? Of my mom? Why?”
“You’d have to meet my mother to understand. You know that day you called me and we…well, we had that moment on the baseball field?”
The wide grin made his face hurt like a motherfucker, but the pain was worth it. “Yes.”
“You interrupted a call from my mom. She was asking for money. Mostly for her drug and alcohol habit. She claimed it was for repairing the gutters on our house, but…she’s an addict and she, well, let’s just say our moms wouldn’t exactly co-exist well.”
“C’mon, Josie—”
She snorted. “Maybe as patient and psychologist. But that’s it.”
Showing him this very exposed, very fragile part of herself was a gift, he knew. Josie wouldn’t do this for anyone. It made his stomach tighten and his arms ache to hold her. What he’d known was real and true and deep and broad was right before him, pouring her heart out in the only way she knew how.
And it had to be enough. He couldn’t push or prod or pull.
“If I’m normal, the world is in trouble,” he said quietly.
“You’re more normal than me,” was all she said, taking one more step closer.
Reach for her, his mind screamed.
So he did.
She accepted his embrace. Sinking his face into her hair, breathing in her goodness, he said again, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have doubted you. I just had this stupid case at work and I turned into a jackass.”
“Asshat.”
“That too. And I should have told you.”
“Yes, you should,” she said into his shoulder. “If I’m going to show you my belly, you have to show me yours.”
Pulling back, she lifted up her shirt. “See? My soft underbelly.”
He pulled his shirt up too. “There. We’re even.”
“Now what?” they said in unison. Alex bent down to press his forehead against hers, forgetting about the cut.
“Ow.” He pulled back.
Her fingers against his cheek searched the topography of his jaw. “Give me time.” On tiptoes, she kissed him lightly on the lips. It felt like a whispered promise.
“Time for what?”
“Time to unfuckup myself.” And with that, she walked to his front door and slipped out like a shadow in a dream, made from nothing quite real, but no less significant.
Chapter Fourteen
It was the green mug that caught her eye. Normally, Josie didn’t go to Central Square for much, preferring to stick closer to Inman, but her days were a bit unmoored until the office space Laura had rented was remodeled and they could get the business up and running in earnest. In the meantime, she had long stretches of time, decent savings, and she’d get her first paycheck in a week or so. Hours on the phone each day and occasional trips to Mike’s cabin filled her days.