“This is it. As you can see, your gift will be much appreciated,” she says, gesturing to a wall that holds several pitiful plants.
She walks to the small kitchen off the main front room hardly large enough for a loveseat and bookshelf. Besides the planet cemetery, it’s impersonally furnished—like a live-in hotel—and I get the impression none of these furnishings are hers.
Still, it smells like her and I like being here.
“I’m just going to get dressed. Be right back,” she says after putting the kettle on.
“Righty-o.” I groan at my awkwardness.
It feels so intimate to be in her house. I can’t imagine having someone stop by unexpectedly. Seriously, what had I been thinking? Who stops over without an invitation in this day and age?
She’s back a few minutes later in a pair of black leggings and an oversized Tupac T-shirt that reveals her shoulder. Her curls are piled up on top of her head and the smell of mint follows her in.
She pours her tea and makes me a cup too. I slide onto a stool on the other side of the counter.
Julia leans against the counter and looks at me as she blows on her cup. “So weird seeing you here.” Her voice is deeper when she’s just woken than it usually is at work. It does something primal to me.
“I got your address from your file. Not exactly sure that’s ethical.”
Her exposed shoulder rises and drops. “At this point that seems sort of moot.”
She doesn’t say it harshly but it reminds me of one of the things constantly weighing on me: the lines being crossed, the rules being broken.
Julia winces as she sets down her mug and there’s something hiding in the clench of her jaw and the dark circles under her eyes. I’m all too familiar with the signs of someone masking pain.
“Are you feeling okay?” I ask.
She hesitates a moment like she’s trying to decide how to answer. After a lifetime of keeping everything buried, being honest must not come naturally. She shakes her head. “Today’s rough.”
“Because of the meeting and the stress of the week?”
“Probably,” she offers. “I almost went off in that meeting. In more ways than one. It hurts when I push it back down.”
I frown, desperate to reach out and hold her hand. Instead, I wrap my fingers around the warm mug. “That’s the other thing I wanted to say. I handled things poorly back at the test lab. When you danced.” I pour my regret into my words. “I can’t possibly imagine what you go through and in no way meant to presume. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. I was short with you. I’m sorry too.”
Both sets of our hands are on the counter, neither reaching for the other, but only a few inches apart.
“But I’m not ready to give up,” I continue, knocking my knuckles once. “I know you see yourself differently than I do. But I’m not ready to stop trying to help you. You’re not the villain. You’re not a freak. We just don’t understand it. I can help. I’m good at figuring things out.”
She smiles at me with a quick tug of the sides of her mouth.
I continue, “I believe in you. I think you are special. You’re not normal, it’s true. But that’s what makes you,you. And I think you’re pretty awesome.”
She holds my gaze. Some color has returned to her cheeks. “Thank you.”
“Actually, I’ve been thinking about your powers, and I had an idea.” Her episodes appear to be triggered by high-stress situations or negative emotions she suppresses. I wonder if other emotions are as effective, or if every strong feeling she fights to suppress would have the same effect. “A theory,” I add.
I release my mug to go around the small counter that separates us. As I move closer, her eyes go wider. She sidesteps me and flees toward the living room. “Have you met my roommate?” she asks.
I stop moving toward her. I halt. I totally forgot about the roommate.
“Ah, no. Are they here now?”
I can’t help but process the dimensions of the house, doing quick guesstimations in my head. There’s only enough square footage for one bedroom and a bathroom off this room. There isn’t another room for sleeping. Maybe roommate is code for …
“Ginger, this is Nathaniel. Nathaniel, this is Ginger.” Julia grins up at me, hands clasped behind her back. There is nobody around. Does she see dead people too? That one might be harder to swallow. I notice then the fish tank on the table she’s standing in front of. Just when I think I start to figure this woman out … She glances at me and back to the tank, waiting for me to respond.
