As Told By Paramours

chapter twenty-five

elijah

Josie keeps sending these looks my way, and I'm not sure what time make of them.

The first time was when we were in the car on the way to the cafe, and she was watching me and nearly got into an accident. When I smiled at her, she shook her head and her face got red as she muttered: "There was, um. A bee."

The second, we were sitting in the cafe and I was across from her, and every time I looked away for a bit she blinked at me as if seeing me was still new to her.

Now, we are both unabashedly staring at each other.

We're in front of Jameson again and Tommy already headed up to his room.

"So." She shifts her weight onto her other foot, and I get a feeling she doesn't want to end the day just yet either.

"So," I say, but I draw it out so that I can give myself a little bit of time to think of anything and grab onto this string we have-- whatever it is.

"Um. I have to do Elise's shopping for Miranda— she's another worker— who's sick today. It's just at Superstore." She uses her thumb to gesture behind her vaguely. "Do you want to come?"

I smile. "I would like that."

● ● ●

"Josephine. I thought you were joking."

"Seriously? Why would I joke about something like that, Elijah?"

I frown at the bag of cheetos in her grocery bag. "We're here for a resident."

"It's not like I'm making her pay for it," Josie says with a roll of her eyes, and my lip twitches. "I'll pay."

"I wouldn't."

She pats me on the shoulder as she brushes past me, in a mock-placating way. "Yes yes, Elijah. That's why I won't be sharing with you." She stops, then gasps. "Oh my God, have you tried these yet?" She holds up a bag that reads Smartfood Cheddar Popcorn.

I cock my head, then shake it.

"I texted you about them earlier," she says.

"Oh yeah. Sorry I haven't replied to your voice message, it's been a busy day," I say. I mean to tell her what I would have said in messages but didn't have the time too, but instead, I say: "But it's nice that your voice was the first thing I heard today."

She blinks.

I blink too.

Shouldn't have said that.

I change his mind when she smiles and something shifts in my chest.

"I wish yours was the first thing I heard. Instead I heard my little sister screaming at Rachelle. Yours did improve my day, though."

She's twirling her finger around her hair. It's hard to pay attention. I clear my throat. Subject change. "Yeah, well, I've never tried them before."

She grins at me and throws five of them into her cart.

It starts raining by the time we're paying for the groceries. And by the time we're seated in the car, we end up talking and eating together.

I tilt the bag towards her and she takes a handful. I take another as well. "Damn. This is really good."

"Right?"

I watch her for a moment, then grab a tissue from the compartment she pointed out to me before.

I'm not startled by how comfortable I am with her, or how much I want to stay even though we've already prolonged our time together. I just accept it.

"You know that feeling when you're about to smile?" I start quietly, and clear my throat and try again. Soo-Ah says my voice always sounds gravelly because I never talk, and I find it funny now. Almost ironic. She cocks her head and I continue. "That feeling when your heart swells first, like your heart knows you better than your body does. And you don't know when it starts but you know you feel that invisible tug, because suddenly that invisible tug is in the works, and your cheeks feel more full, and you can't help but let it happen."

She's quiet for a moment, and my ears start to heat up, before the familiar invisible tug is in the works: this time, on her face. "I think it's good that you're choosing music. It's fitting."

I don't know what she means. I think perhaps if I'd met her a couple months before I did, or maybe not at all, I would've stayed silent. Knowledge is scary sometimes. But I find myself asking: "How do you mean?"

"You have a way with words."

And I find the tug working on me, too.

We settle in the car and she sits deeper in the driver's seat instead.

"I wish I could be like you," she says after a couple beats, and I balk.

"Me?"

She nods. "Yeah. You aren't jittery or— so— out there or anything."

I shake my head. "I'm just quiet."

"Yeah, quiet in a really loud way." Her eyes crinkle, but she doesn't smile. "When you speak, you say exactly what you mean. It makes people want to hear you talk more. You don't need to command attention, peoples' eyes just drift to you because you have that aura—"

"—aura?"

"You don't talk an egregious amount."

"I want to..." I try to find the words, eyes on the dashboard in front of me. "But I can't. I would rather stay in my own bubble because letting people in is scary. Saying things you feel out loud, things you've only thought to yourself is really..."

She nods, enthused. "Very... daunting."

We both laugh quietly.

"I honestly wish I wasn't so open," Josie continues, curling her knees up to rest under her chin. I'm watching every move. "I tell people things when I shouldn't, it just comes out without me wanting it to. It makes me look so silly. By the time I've known someone for two weeks I'd have told them every single detail about my life."

"Not me."

"Yeah well, if I write for more than three minutes my hands cramp up."

I smile, and it widens when she does too. That happens often these days.

"I just feel like then people don't take me seriously. Like, if all my issues are things I can divulge within two weeks maybe they aren't so important."

"Maybe that just means you trust easily?"

"I don't know which is worse, to be honest."

I don't know whether to speak or be silent, but she looks grateful that I don't reply, so I'm glad I chose the right one.

I want to comfort her, but I was never that type of person. Maybe that's why Kait and I hit it off so well, because she was like me at the time, and didn't talk about how she really felt, so we never needed to comfort each other. Maybe our relationship was just two of us wallowing in our own sadness.

But I don't want to do that now.

Josie's lips that were usually turned up on default are pulled down, and there are folds between her brows.

I think of what my mother would do if I was sad, and I reach over and put my hand over hers.

She pauses first— then links our fingers together.