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Ellie pulls away, her brown eyes flicking between mine. There’s a question buried in my words, one that I already know the answer to. I still need to hear it. “And that will be agoodthing, Finn.” She presses a palm to my cheek and strokes the pad of her thumb across my jaw. “I’m going to be alright.”
I kiss her again before dragging my suitcase behind me to get in line.
She waits until I’m through to the other side before turning, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve left part of myself here–back in Ohio.
Thirty-Two
Ellis
I’ve never been more thankful for my boring job that I’m not passionate about. As I stare at the computer screen, my leg involuntarily bounces beneath the desk. I don’t know why Iagreed to meet with Adam today, and I don’t know what B is going to say about it when I stop there before the dinner.
My body is a giant pile of nerves, and staring at my monitor, I find that working suddenly feels like procrastination.
And I’m a whore for procrastination.
A chair creaks on the other side of the divider and I see Rupert’s head pop into view. “How are you doing there, Ellie?” he asks.
My leg stops bouncing. “Hmm?” I ask, before swiveling to face him.
“Well,” he begins. “For one, I can feel you fidgeting from over here. You’re shaking the entire floor.” He rolls his chair around the bend, now fully in my cubicle. “For two, you’ve said nothing all day, and you didn’t even wrinkle your nose when I came back from lunch.” A small smile pulls at his mouth, highlighting the deep wrinkles there. “I ate tuna, so I know how that was supposed to go.”
I make a strange noise. It’s something like laughter mixed with a heavy dose of embarrassment and shame. I’m not even sure I could repeat something like that.
“So,” Rupert says, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands in front of him. He wrings them out. “Tell me what’s on your mind. You thinking about quitting after that art show of yours? I know you were excited.”
I lean back in my chair. “Actually, no. My artwork did well, though. That was exciting! I think maybe I can do both.” I shrug. “It’s not so bad here.”
His brow furrows. “That boyfriend didn’t–”
I cut him off. “Finn and I are great. He’s finally got an opportunity to tour with a band he loves. He’ll be back in about a little over a week.”
Rupert sits up, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that straightens some of the wrinkles in his checkered button-down shirt. “Okay, so what is it then?”
I debate telling him. I debate it for a whole twelve seconds before I give in. It might be nice to talk to someone outside of the situation. “My dad showed up at the art show.”
“Your dad?”
“I’ve never met him before. He never stuck around, and then he was just there. Arguing with my aunt on the patio.”
Rupert’s brows pinch together. “And what was he there for?”
I shrug, trying to squelch the little bubble of hope in my chest. What nobody tells you about losing someone is that a hole forms in you. Sometimes you don’t notice it, and it’s a little more like Swiss cheese. It stops feelingwrongand feels more likeit just is.But when something happens to remind you it’s there, that’s when the ache starts up again.
I don’t want to hope that meeting my dad will ease the ache. Not with his history.
But the hope is still there.
“I guess he wants to meet me.” I shake my head. “But I don’t know. B, my aunt, was pretty pissed off seeing him there. He’s done a lot of really shitty things in the past.”
Rupert slides forward and motions for my hand. For whatever reason, I let him take it. He’s sitting in front of me, eyes shining with wisdom–gentle and warm.
“Listen, Ellie,” he begins, and I hold my breath. It feels like he’s about to say something important. “I’ve picked up on pieces of your life over the years you’ve worked here. I’ve watched you grow as an employee. As a person. I even suffered in the dungeon with you. It was unreasonable.”
I laugh, biting back the tears threatening to leak out of my eyes. “It was really terrible down there.”
Rupert smiles. “Sometimes men come around. Sometimes they find whatever it was they were looking for in the strangest of places. They get the help they need. Maybe they start therapy, or maybe it’s an accident that wakes them up.” He presses his lips together, patting the top of my hand with his other before continuing. “Sometimes men come around and see what they’ve been missing, and they’re there to stay.”
I can hear the word before he says it. “But?” I add.
