14
Julia
I’m full of buoyant energy as I bounce into the office super early Monday morning. I want to get ahead on as much work as possible before Nathaniel starts whatever tests he wants to run. I’m not thrilled about the idea of tests, to be honest. But I am cautiously optimistic that he might figure out how to help me. If anybody can, it’s him. Maybe just the acknowledgment of the issue from somebody else is enough. Like when you finally call IT for a computer issue and the problem magically fixes itself.
All weekend I had no slips. I cleaned up my small house, I danced and came up with a few new routines I’m excited about. I even managed to only think about Nathaniel when I was conscious. Oh, I guess there was the one perfect dream that caused me to wake up tangled in my sheets again— but that doesn’t count. The point is, I was perfect, and for the first time since starting this contract, super hopeful. Physically, I’m on top of my game. I feel fantastic. No headaches. No body aches. Just me over here, living my best life.
I’m bouncing to the music from my headphones when someone enters my office a little while later. I don’t need to look up to know it’s Nathaniel. He brings with him an aura that my body instantly responds to. He also uses a fresh soap or aftershave with a light note of masculinity that makes every part of me sit up and take notice. When I finally do look up, saving my work with a flourish, I realize Nathaniel and I have had very different weekends.
Nathaniel is pale with bags under his beautiful eyes. His scruff is noticeably longer, though he is still ridiculously handsome. But he looks beaten down. In a flash, all my hope goes out the window.
He regrets everything. It’s written all over his slumped shoulders and his pitiful, “Good morning.” He still has his light suit coat on and his laptop bag on his shoulder.
“Morning,” I say cautiously. “Sit down?”
He scratches his chin. A second later he nods and comes all the way into my office. He shuts the door and locks it behind him. Crap. Nothing good ever comes from locked door conversations.
He sits in the chair and his legs bounce. It makes little ripples in my coffee on my desk. Like the bad news he’s about to deliver will be as devastating as the Tyrannosaurus rex inJurassic Park. My stomach sours in fear. I can’t go back to before. I can’t pretend that I never shared with him.
Please, don’t let me leave already.
“Julia,” he says with all the somberness of a police officer delivering the worst news. If he had a hat, he’d take it off with a bowed head.
I sit so still that only my hammering heart shakes me gently. “Yes?”
“I rushed into things Friday,” he says. He takes a big breath and shrugs out of his coat. “I’m so honored that you shared with me, but I didn’t think things through.” He lifts his gaze to mine. “I want to be able to help you. I really do. But there are so many risks that I didn’t consider.”
I feared this more than anything. Finally sharing myself fully, only to regret it. I shouldn’t have burdened him with my disorder. I knew it was a bad idea. I didn’t want to show him. I didn’t want to put him in jeopardy. I had been weak … and so damn lonely. I see that now. I wanted to be open with someone so I didn’t have to go through this all alone anymore. And I wanted him to be my partner. Instead of sharing a burden, I shackled us both with chains we can’t escape.
“I acted without thinking too,” I mumble. I can no longer meet his gaze. “It’s too much for anybody to handle.”
I sense him wince at my confession.
“I want to do the right thing,” he says.
“I believe you,” I say. He does. He always acts with integrity. I put him in an impossible position. “If you agree to keep my secret—I’m sorry to ask that of you, but if you can do that, I will leave.”
I’m proud of the strength and determination in my words. My insides are crumbling like sand dunes in a tsunami. I could do this. I’ve lived my whole adult life like this. After all, all I want is to be normal. I don’t want to be tested on. I don’t want to be a freak. I want to stop hurting people.
Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’ll save me from learning there is no hope for me.
“Is that what you want? To leave?” he asks.
I look up and into his eyes. The whites are bloodshot and make his multifaceted eyes pop with even more color. His face is contorted by mournful pity.
“How can I answer that honestly?” I say.
His hand rubs over his mouth as he contemplates my words. He’s nodding but his mind is miles away. He’s working out alternate futures, different timelines, trying to make this work.
There’s a harsh knock at my office door. We both jump back in our chairs. I didn’t even realize we were leaning toward each other.
I get up and walk around my desk to open the door.
It’s Jared and he’s grinning. “Hey, Jules,” he says.
“Morning,” I say. I can’t help but grin at the nickname. That grin is immediately followed by a seizing sadness in my chest. I’ll miss this team.
“Have you seen Big Cheese?” he asks.
