Page 16 of Beneath the Indigo Sky

“I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me."

He starts talking the moment he opens the glass door and doesn't stop until he’s escorted me the twenty steps through reception, and I'm settled in the office behind the desk.

“Truly, I don't know what I’d do without you, and bringing me tea is just above and beyond. I'm so thankful for your friendship, Namid. Just let me know if you need anything at all."

I’m so overwhelmed at the fact that his words feel genuine that all I manage is a stuttering, "Thank you," as he half closes the door on his way out and makes his way back to the shop.

"You'll only be another ten minutes, Bob." His tone is deep and harsh once more, almost threatening.

While I know that it's not the best professional decision on his part to welcome me so openly into his shop, I'm grateful. While folks in town are generally polite to me, aside from Ken, no one has ever actively made me feel wanted in this place during the decade I've lived here.

I try not to eavesdrop on their conversation as Bob pays and picks up his keys not long after I’ve settled in with the books. Instead, I focus on my work, although there isn’t much to do aside from balancing the accounts. It’s only been two weeks, and there aren’t any bills to pay this time. It takes me less than an hour, and I reluctantly admit to myself that Jayce really only needs my help once a month.

When I make my way out of the office, I find Jayce sitting at the reception desk with his feet up on the counter, poking idly at his phone.

“I’m finished already. Honestly, you probably only need me to stop by once a month if you’d rather have one of your Saturdays back.”

He drops his feet and quickly stands, slipping his phone into his back pocket.

“I don’t want to be an inconvenience to you; you’re doing me such a huge favor as it is, but if I’m being honest, I think I might get a bit anxious letting things sit for a whole month and just hoping it all works out okay when you come in. Is it too much for you to come every other week, even though there isn’t a lot to do? I’m happy to pay you more.”

Warmth rushes through me as I let myself pretend he’s asking because he wants to see me more often than once a month.

“Every other week is no problem at all for me.”

Relief floods through him.

“So…” He looks oddly nervous. “Would you like to maybe get a second coffee with me?”

I know the smart thing would be to say no and limit our interactions. His feelings are so overwhelming that sometimes it’s hard to separate them from mine. Sometimes, it’s hard to even tell which actually are mine because while I feel the depth of his loss and sorrow whenever he’s around, I also feel sorrow of my own for everything that he’s been through. They play off each other, combining and swirling into a whirlwind. Being around him is like getting caught in a tsunami. It’s overwhelming and exhausting and emotionally decimating.

Still, I can’t deny that a small part of me is thankful that he was so kind when I first reached out to him in the cheese aisle. I’ve always been happy with my quiet life, and I’ve rarely felt the need for more than my friendship with Ken. The occasional interactions I have at the store and the coffee shop have always been more than enough for me, and while I have no desire to suddenly walk into the bar and try to befriend half the town while dealing with the onslaught of their emotions, the warmth in my belly that accompanies Jayce’s smile and his occasional kind words surprises me. Even though I know it’s likely the wrong choice, I want to spend as much time with him as I can.

“I’d really like that.”

I know I’m grinning like a moron. I really don’t care.

Jayce

Why did I just do that? I don't want to go get coffee with Namid. It’s not that I don’t want to go with him. It’s that I don't want another tea. I don't want to go to the coffee shop. I don't want to go anywhere other than home to strip and fall into bed until I have to drag myself out again on Monday morning, just like I have every weekend for the past two months. I want to hide in the darkness where the pain can’t find me. Just like I have during every moment I haven't been obligated to do things I can’t avoid - things like remembering to eat and shower. When I leave my bed, all I think about is the fact that when I'm asleep, I can't feel, I can't regret, I can't hurt. When I’m asleep, I don't have to try to convince myself that this lonely life is worth living, even though I’m not sure I believe that.

The invitation just fell out. I know that the way Namid keeps to himself rubs some folks the wrong way. I know the way he showed up with no history and no name and no anything still bothers them. I know people avoid him, and while they’re polite to his face, he's not welcome enough to be actively included. He’s still other. When he’d stood there with that sad half smile on his beautiful face, holding out a tea he'd gone out of his way to get in a new ceramic cup I hadn't had to ask for, telling me that the whole town hates him so much his very presence in my business is something he felt he should apologize for, my heart broke. I didn't even know the tiny pieces that were left could break any further.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it the entire time he was working today, about the fact that I've never once seen him with anyone other than Mr. Johnson in the whole ten years he's lived here. Does he even have a friend? Losing my brother and finding myself alone has nearly broken me in eight weeks. Has he really been this alone for ten years?

"It's nice today. Do you want to walk?"

He shrugs on his thin coat. It’s still cold outside, but it’s nearly summer, and the sun has just started to peek out from behind the thin clouds, so it shouldn’t be too bad. The idea of even a quick drive, squished into the cab of my truck, somehow sounds far more awkward than a walk.

"That’d be great."

His face lights up when he smiles at me.

The day continues to brighten as we walk the four blocks to the supermarket coffee shop, and once we have our beverages in hand, grateful for the decent weather, we decide to continue on for another two blocks to the small park in the center of town. It’s the end of May, and still snowy, of course, but the short walking trail that circles the park and the few small benches that speckle the edge of the path have been cleared by the city. By that, I mean the mayor brings over his ATV with a plow bolted to the front and a broom for the benches. We find one that’s in the sunlight and settle in side by side.

“You’ve been here for a long time now. Do you like living here?” I’m surprised when the words leave my mouth. I’m even more surprised when I realize that I mean them. I don’t want to just talk about the weather; I want to know more about him.

“Well, it’s not like I’ve ever been to the Bahamas or anything, so I can’t say that this is my favorite place in the world. This is the only place I’ve ever been. I could do without the nine months of needing a snowplow, and it would probably be nice to actually feel warm when I’m outside for once in my life, but all that aside, I do really like it.”

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