still left in me. At one time, I’d believed her. I
didn’t anymore.
Her embrace became more painful than comforting. “I didn’t
save anything or anyone, Joze. I don’t qualify as a superhero.”
“But you tried . That’s what matters.”
“No, that’s not what matters. Saving my dad’s what would
have mattered. The only thing that matters now is that he’s dead, my hand is
burnt to hell, and I’m homeless.” Too bad the doc didn’t hook me up with an
I.V. Then I could have just kept pumping the drugs into me. I wasn’t sure if it
was Josie or reality, but one or both of them were forcing me back to a place I
didn’t want to be.
“You know you can stay with me and my family for as long as
you need to.” Her hold around me tightened when I tried to squirm away. Classic
Josie.
“Oh, yeah. That would be ideal. Absolutely ideal. Because we
all know how highly your dad thinks of me. If I was the last living creature on
earth, he wouldn’t even skin me and use me for his boots, and that’s without
him even knowing I slept with his daughter under his roof.” Josie hushed me.
Maybe because I was getting a little loud, but probably because I’d brought up
being one of the men she’d been with. She hated that. Probably always would. I
hated myself for it. That was one of the few things Josie and I had in common.
“And let’s not forget your mom, who looks at me like she can’t decide whether
to pray for me or pray that the ground opens up and a legion of demons drag me
into hell where she thinks I belong.”
Josie let out one of those long sighs, and the warmth of it
crept down my neck. “I just wanted you to know the invitation’s there should
you choose to accept it.”
“Thanks, Joze, and I mean this with sincere gratitude . . .
but no thanks.” Truthfully, that she’d even invited me to stay at her place was
enough to choke a man up, but I couldn’t let her know that. There was no way I
could let her know she was probably the only person on the face of the earth
who’d invite me to crash at their place for an indefinite amount of time. A few
minutes of silence passed between us, long enough so her embrace shifted back
from pain to comfort. Long enough I’d almost fallen asleep from the drugs.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” I said instantly. I didn’t want to talk about it then,
the next day, or never. Talk, kind of like I’m sorry, didn’t change
anything.
Josie didn’t press me. She didn’t try to encourage me that
opening up and talking until my vocal chords oozed blood was a part of the
healing process. She knew me, and while most of the time that was a detriment,
right then it wasn’t. She knew I didn’t talk about anything I didn’t want to
because she’d been around long enough to know my M.O. Plus, she was the same.
Trying to get Josie to open up about something she didn’t want to would have
been about as successful an endeavor as trying with me.
“What are you going to do?” she said a minute later, her
voice soft, almost scared. Josie did scared about as often as I did, so I
couldn’t understand where it was coming from. What was she scared about? Scared
for me? Scared of life and its suddenness? Scared of what?
Letting out a long sigh, I said, “I don’t know, Joze. I
don’t fucking know.”
Moving so smoothly I barely felt the mattress shift, Josie
crawled over me until she was laying in front of me, her face inches from mine.
Whatever sadness or fear had been in her voice wasn’t on her face. Her green
eyes locked onto mine, and if I believed in that kind of shit, I would have
sworn whatever peace or certainty was in them transferred to me. For the first
time that night—for the first time that year —I felt peaceful. At rest.
It was such an alarming sensation, I didn’t know what to do. Run and duck for
cover, or exhale and bask in it.
Before I’d made up my mind, Josie leaned in closer until her
lips pressed into mine. My eyes