The Witness

9

"You ready?" John knocked on my bedroom door. The notes of aggravation and anxiety in his tone were not at all subtle. "Sam?"

I snapped my head up from my desk, a perfect scowl etched across my furrowed brow and wrinkled nose. John still hadn't learned to let me finish my Italian homework before interrupting me.

The University library was for ASL homework and tutoring sessions with Josh. Our cramped living room at home was where John supervised me in my online Creative Writing course.

But my bedroom was where I cherished every moment of Italian by myself. Call me crazy, but the time I spent on Italian was the closest I could get to being with Eric and unraveling the jumbled phrases from that fateful night in the Met kitchen.

Italian had become my private passion project.

"Yeah." I tried to forceably subdue my frustration at being interrupted during my conjugations, but my disdain was clear. Standing, I shook my mind loose from my educational shackles. "Are you sure I can't drive myself?"

"Negative." John muttered as he handed over a tiny earpiece and a simple stainless steel turtle necklace. I knew this necklace well; the turtle's eye was a microscopic camera (perhaps 'microscopic' was an exaggeration, but the camera was tiny). "I must monitor you at all times."

So much for privacy, eh? John knew every detail about my domestic and student struggles. He knew that if I was watching The Holiday, I was feeling homesick. He knew that I couldn't stand to eat radishes or his green bean casserole. He knew to keep our freezer stocked with mint chip ice cream for my 'favorite' week of the month.

John knew quite literally everything about me, even my preference for private Italian studying.

"Thank you." I breathed airily as I fastened the turtle around my neck, grateful that he put up with my antics. "You really know how to make a girl feel special."

Did I detect a hint of a smile? John turned quickly and announced that he was going to check the car.

"I can do this." I stared at my reflection in the mirror, acutely aware of the sandy brown roots of hair protruding a half inch from my scalp. My nails were atrocious, but that couldn't be helped now. The brown eyes struck me as the most off-putting, though.

I would never be used to wearing colored contacts. My eyes were meant to be green.

"Sam!" John called from the foyer. "Let's go!"

*****

"You made it!" Josh smiled brightly after opening the front door. I awkwardly presented a bag of potato chips as a gesture of gratitude for my invitation. Josh, ever patient with my shy silences, accepted them graciously. "Make yourself at home! Do you mind if I introduce you to everyone?"

'Everyone' consisted of a group of another four people. Two - Robby and Casey - were a couple who were far too engrossed in one another to make good conversation. A bombshell blonde - Evelyn - eyed me coolly through our introduction, but made no real attempt at bonding. The last one was a real extrovert and kicked up a conversation with me straight away.

"Jess, huh?" Timothy smiled and stuck his thumb into his chest. "I'm Timothy - call me Tim! You must have already heard about me though - I'm Josh's best friend, after all!"

"No, you're not!" Josh laughed and lightly punched Tim on the shoulder. "You know that Bella owns that spot."

"Bella?" I felt my stomach flop, an unexpected reaction to hearing a simple name. A female name. "Is...is she your...roommate or something?"