Page 111 of The Way I Am Now
“Well, it’s about damn time,” she says, rolling her eyes at me as she snaps the lid on both travel mugs, setting mine in the fridge. “Okay, now that you’re not actively murdering yourself, I’ll remind you that my offer to come jogging with me still stands.”
“Maybe I’ll try when we get back.Maybe,” I add, feeling in no position to be making promises to anyone, least of all myself.
“All right, come here,” she says, and swishes toward me in her giant coat. Gives me a long hug. “Drive carefully, and take care of yourself, all right?” Then she scrunches her face up like she smells something bad and adds, “God, who the fuck am I turning into, my mother?”
My laugh muscles are out of practice from neglect, but they give a weak little huff. “Have a safe flight,” I tell her. “See you in a few days.”
She heads for the door but turns around and sort of half smiles, half frowns. “Honey, do me a favor and just think about changing out of that shirt, okay?”
“Oh.” I look down at myself—the gray T-shirt is sticking out from under the collar of my hoodie—I had no idea it was that obvious I’d been wearing his shirt under my clothes every day. “Okay.”
“Love you,” she sings as she maneuvers through the door with her bags and mug, managing to nimbly close it behind her.
I take a breath but barely have a chance to let it out again when I hear his voice in the hall. I go to the door and look out through the peephole. In the tiny wide-frame convex circle, I can see their distorted figures: Josh standing on one side and Parker on the other.
Their voices are quiet, muffled.
Parker says, “Josh, I don’t know what to tell you.”
“At least tell me if she’s okay?”
Parker puts her hand on her hip and brings her other hand to her mouth—I think, making the “shh” gesture, because she points at the door next. If she says anything, I can’t hear it.
Josh brings his hand to his head. I hear him say something, followed by “. . . to tell her I’m sorry.”
Parker shakes her head. Something mumbled. Then, “Don’t. Just don’t.”
Josh throws his hands up and shakes his head. “But . . .” something indecipherable.
Parker reaches out and touches his arm for a second. “Let her come to you.”
He says something short and nods.
I watch as Parker walks away. Josh watches her go. After a few moments he turns back toward the door, takes a step forward. I hold my breath as I watch him place a hand on either side of the door-frame and look down at the ground. My heart starts racing at how close we’d be if the door weren’t between us. I can hear him sigh. Then he backs away and rubs his hands over his face—his stubble back now, nearly turning into a real beard this time. He looks at the door once more, and part of me is afraid that he might be able to tell somehow that I’m watching him. If he knocks right now, I’m not sure I’d be able to not let him in. I feel my fingers reaching for the knob—to keep me in or him out, I don’t know which.
But then he walks away.
And I finally exhale.
I bring the green smoothie into the bathroom with me and sip on it as I get ready to take a shower. The cold rushes against my skin as I peel the T-shirt off my body. I feel more naked than naked even, like I’ve just removed a layer of skin and am now exposed to any number of dangerous contaminants from the world around me. But I let the shirt fall from my hands into the laundry hamper. I pile my other clothes on top of it and smoosh it down as hard as I can.
When I get out of the shower, I have a text from DA Silverman waiting for me:
Happy Thanksgiving, Eden. I wanted to
share this right away. We have a date.
Clear your calendar for the second week
of January. As always, let me know if you
have any questions. Thanks, CeCe
CeCe. How strange it is to see her name there. I guess going to trial puts us on a first-name basis. I’ve seen her full name on paperwork as Cecelia Silverman, but I’d never imagined in real life she would go by CeCe. Such a normal nickname, a cute name even. Is she cute in her real life? I find myself wondering. Like, not a stoic powerhouse in heels and suits with her hair pulled back tight and shiny. Does she do cute things like make jokes and eat popcorn in movie theaters and sing off-key in the car? I write back immediately, still dripping wet, leaving puddles on the bathroom floor—I didn’t realize I’d been needing this news so urgently until it came.
Okay, thank you for the update. Happy
Thanksgiving to you too, CeCe.
