Page 35 of Leviticus
“Perhaps.” One word. One single word was not a conversation and gave me no room to continue speaking.
“Or perhaps we could discuss some of the books in your library?” I offered, hoping for some singular tidbit to build some amount of rapport through.
“You’re welcome to borrow any books from my shelves, as we’ve discussed.” Again, his eyes stayed focused on his magazine, refusing to engage with me. I took the last bite of my pancakes and sat back, just watching him.
“Levi, is there a reason why you won’t engage with me? Why won’t you even look at me half the time? Am I that disgusting to you?” I sighed, exasperated and frustrated.
He scoffed.
Just, scoffed, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about, Leviticus,” I sighed.
“I’ve asked you not to call me that. Several times. Please don’t make me repeat myself again,” he stated, clearly agitated, as he finally set the magazine down on the table and looked at me.
“I wouldn’t call you that, but it seems to be the only way I can get your attention!”
“What does that even mean?” His hands fisted against the table, an almost nervous tick of his I had picked up on. He was frustrated.
“It means that you aren’t looking at me, you aren’t talking to me. I thought that things would be different now —”
“What do you mean?” He asked again. Why was he being so dense!
“I mean that we spent an entire week in relative silence, not speaking, not getting to know one another. But then last night —”
“Last night was a mistake.” His words stopped me cold.
“Please don’t say that,” I whispered. He sighed heavily and rolled his eyes.
“Okay, it wasn’t a mistake, but it wasn’t right for me to take advantage either,” he pressed on.
“This is so frustrating, Leviticus,” I sighed, putting my head in my hands.
“Don’t call me that!” he exclaimed, standing and smacking the table with his hands.
“It’s your name! Why is it such an issue?” I pushed right back, my eyes narrowing at him. “Why Levi?”
“Because my brothers call me Levi, as do those close to me,” he explained, his body still tense and rigid with frustration.
“Your parents don’t,” I argued.
“Like I said… those close to me call me Levi,” he all but spat out through clenched teeth.
“Okay, now was that so hard?” I retorted, knowing that I should curb the sass in my voice, yet letting it go anyway.
“You have no idea,” he muttered under his breath, with a roll of his eyes.
“Well, then maybe you should enlighten me,” I scoffed, slapping my own hands down on the table.
“No,” he snapped.
“Why not?”
“Because you just wouldn’t understand, Ruth,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“But you don’t actually know that. I could absolutely understand —”
“No, you won’t understand.” He was adamant.
