Page 9 of Beneath the Indigo Sky

“I was supposed to buy your second one.”

I shrug. “You can buy me one some other time.”

He nods almost imperceptibly and picks up his new tea, warming his hands on the cup and swirling it gently as he watches the pattern in the foam shift around.

“Thank you. For everything.”

“My pleasure.”

When he looks up and his eyes find mine, they’re red and swollen; he’s been crying again. They’re jade green, and in the bright sunlight that streams through the windows and bathes him with its warmth, they’re almost transparent. They’re beautiful.

“I just realized I don’t actually know your name.”

I’m so lost in his eyes that his softly spoken words surprise me.

I offer a kind smile. “Namid.”

“I’ve never heard that name before.”

I have to suppress my laughter. That’s the politest version of “What the hell kind of name is that?” I’ve ever heard - which is, of course, the first thing everyone I ever meet says when I introduce myself.

“I’m not surprised. It’s Chippewa. It means star dancer.”

His left eyebrow lifts in silent question, and I can’t help but chuckle. He wants to know why. When I’ve had this conversation with others in the past, their expressions - and the confusion that radiates from them - always seem to come with wariness, as if my name alone somehow makes me seem even odder to them than I already do. I feel none of that from him. No judgment or confusion or fear. Under his pain, there is only a spark of curiosity.

“I know the Chippewa aren’t from around here, but Ken - Mr. Johnson’s - grandfather is Chippewa, and he speaks the language. When we realized that I likely wasn’t going remember who I was, I needed a name.”

Jayce’s eyebrow has fallen back to its normal resting place, and he carefully sips his hot tea.

“I told him that I was fine sticking with John Doe, which is what the sheriff’s office and hospital called me. Ken was…less than thrilled with that suggestion.” I can’t help but chuckle at the memory of how offended he felt on my behalf.

Jayce smiles. It’s a rough, broken thing, but for one single instant, as his lips twitch upward, I feel something other than despair from him. Something that in another time and place might be akin to amusement.

“He found me in December, on a night when the sky was clear and the Aurora was so bright he was able to see me lying on the side of the road, even though it was nearly midnight. It’s the only reason he was able to see me. When we got to the hospital, I was, astonishingly, unharmed. There’s no way to know how long I was lying in the snow on a two-degree night, but I didn’t have frostbite, and I didn’t have hypothermia. I was cold but otherwise unharmed. Ken thinks it was a miracle. He says that I must have fallen from the stars, and they kept me safe until he found me.”

Jayce’s face is soft. It’s the softest I’ve seen it; the small lines that have lived next to his eyes and across his forehead each time I’ve seen him are barely visible. The guilt and pain and desperation that have threatened to swallow me right along with him whenever I’ve been in his presence have faded as I’ve spoken. Behind the black and hurt and emptiness that I struggle to hold at arm’s distance when I’m near him, I feel a hint of something else. It’s subtle and soft and gentle and so quiet that I’m not even sure it’s real, but it feels like hope. Like maybe he’s realizing that if I was able to survive, he might too.

I keep talking, hoping to nurse the small spark somehow.

“When I told Ken I’d keep John, he told me he’d think about it and come up with something perfect, and then three days later, he lays this on me.”

I laugh quietly. “He didn’t do me any favors with a name like this in such a small town. John might have helped me seem slightly less like an outsider, but when he suggested it and explained his reasoning, I couldn’t say no. He offered me his surname as well, so at least that half is easier for people to pronounce.”

I shift in my seat, growing uncomfortable under Jayce’s intense gaze and wishing I had more espresso to sip as a distraction, but it’s long gone.

“I love it now. I’m…different. I know that. Fewer people expect me to fit in here with a name like this.”

He smiles at me. It doesn’t last long, but it’s the first time I’ve seen an actual smile rather than a twitch of his lips as they try to shift into the ghost of an expression simply because he feels it’s a social obligation to do so.

“It suits you.”

Warmth rushes through me. Aside from Ken, I don’t interact with many people outside of work, and I certainly don’t sit through two cups of coffee with them, especially when their emotions are as strong as Jayce’s are. It’s hard for me to keep pushing them aside and telling myself that they’re his, not mine.

The warmth that’s slowing growing in my chest is my own. It’s because of him, yes, but this feeling is mine.

“Ken says you own the mechanic shop?”

The smile is gone. “Me and Jordyn. It’s always been the two of us.”

---