Page 52 of Heal Me

Jocelin: Can’t wait. xxxooo

The text exchange is briefer than I anticipate. I figured he’d be bored out of his mind by now. I would be.

Me: everything okay?

Jocelin:thumbsup emojiJust busy.kissing heart emoji

I have no idea what he could possibly be busy with, but I shrug it off. If Jocelin needs me, he’ll text. And I’ll see him in a few hours. Turning back to my laptop, I get to work.

26

Jocelin

Afterbreakfast,Iwanderaround Gunnar’s house, looking in all the places I’d been hesitant to during my last visit. There’s a small office area just off the living room, but other than that, there isn’t anything out of the ordinary. I sit down and turn on the TV, scrolling through every channel twice before turning it off and throwing the remote on the couch in disgust. I’m unused to idle days. Even when I’m not working, I usually have errands or plans with friends. There’s no way I can sit and read, like I told Gunnar. My brain isn’t in a calm enough place for that.

Wandering into the kitchen, I stare out the window over the sink into a decent-sized backyard. There’s a cute patio with a few chairs, a fire pit, and a two-seater swing. The rest of the yard is covered in red and orange leaves, and since it’s currently not raining, I grab my coat and wander out to explore. The air is fragrant with dirt and decomposing leaves. Winter doesn’t seem in any hurry to get here this year. The weather has stalled in a perpetual state of autumn, and I’m fine with that. Even though I’m from Canada, I still don’t like snow or cold. This is about as chilly as I want it to be. I tilt my face up to the sky and close my eyes, letting the sun warm my skin.

“Hello dear. Jocelin isn’t it?”

My heart leaps in my throat as my eyes snap open, and I glance around. Mrs. Clarke is in her kitchen, waving to me through the open window. I take a deep breath and try to calm my racing pulse. “Good morning, Mrs. Clarke. Yes, it’s Jocelin. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Thank you for asking. Do you have today off, or are you not feeling well?”

“Just have the day off. Bit of a vacation. Thought I’d hang out at Gunnar’s.”

Mrs. Clarke nods. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

I shouldn’t be so excited over a simple invitation for tea, but I am. “Absolutely. That sounds lovely.”

“I’ll just meet you at the front door.”

She shuts the window and disappears into the house, so I get up and walk down the side yard to the little gate in the fencing and reach her front door just as she opens it. “It’s a beautiful day, but I think it’s still cold enough for a nice warm cup of something. Do come in, dear.”

I wipe my feet and step into one of the coziest places I’ve ever been. The room is all warm colors and overstuffed furniture, and there’s a little fireplace with an orange and green rag rug in front. Everything is immaculate, and I start to take off my shoes, but Mrs. Clarke waves me off. “No need. Just hand me your coat, and I’ll hang it up. Then we’ll go into the kitchen.” I pass her my coat and follow her through the house. “Why don’t you have a seat at the table? What kind of tea do you prefer? I have several varieties of black tea and green tea and even a red one if you’d like.”

“Red please, if it isn’t too much trouble.” I sit at the table, enjoying the sun streaming through the window.

“No trouble at all.” She flips on the kettle and gets out two mugs, adding a tea bag to each. “You have a bit of an accent. May I ask where you’re from?”

“Montreal. I grew up there and came to the US for university.”

“Oh, Montreal! I’ve never been. But it sounds lovely. Everyone speaks French there, don’t they?”

“Itislovely. Especially this time of year. And yes, it’s a French speaking province. But French spoken in Quebec is different from the French spoken in France. My accent is Quebecois. And there are those who speak English, of course.”

Mrs. Clarke sits down with me and puts her hand over mine. “Now, tell me all about yourself. You come from Montreal. What brought you to Seattle?”

“Work. I studied law at the University of Washington and was offered a position here with a very prestigious law firm. So I never went home. I’ve been in Seattle for ten years.”

“And are your parents still with us?”

I smile at her use of the plural. “Yes. In fact, they are visiting me now. I’m staying with Gunnar while they are at my place. You know, just a little too close for comfort if I stayed there as well.”

Mrs. Clarke’s lips quirk into a small smile, and her eyes sparkle. “Hmmm. Yes. So, what do your parents think of Gunnar? I’m sure they love him to pieces. He’s such a sweet boy. He had his troubles when his mother passed, God rest her soul.” She shakes her head, obviously upset at the memory of the murder. “She was stabbed, you know. Such a horrible thing to witness, and at such a young age. And then, it was all over the local paper, and he had to testify in court.” She sighs and takes a sip of her tea. “But he came through, and he’s done quite well for himself. Though he’s been lonely.”

I’m not sure if I’m more surprised at how much she knows about Gunnar, or that she thinks he’s been lonely. “Oh?”

“Yes, well, he never said that specifically, but the whole time he’s lived next door, he’s never been romantically attached to anyone. And I know all about asexuality and aromantics. My granddaughter keeps me up to date.” She gives me a knowing wink. “She’spansexual.That means she’s attracted to people regardless of their gender identity, or their bits and bobs. And she has a girlfriend named Daria. They’re very sweet together.“ She takes my hand again. “I asked Gunnar if he was asexual or aromantic, and he blushed like you’re doing right now.” I try not to choke on suppressed laughter because I can only imagine Gunnar’s reaction to Mrs. Clarke’s questions. The kettle shuts off, and she pushes up from the table, and pours the water into our waiting mugs. “Sugar or milk, dear?”

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