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I really hope she gets the help she needs to get better again. As bad as everything she did was for us, she’s as much a victim of the situation as we are. But if the meds don’t work, I’m calling an exorcist. On both our behalves. We just sit there for a moment, both lost in our own thoughts. One of the things that hasn’t changed in all those years, is how comfortable we are just being together. O accepts every aspect of my being and I’m always at ease with myself when I’m in his presence.
“Should we get anything for dinner?” I finally ask after spending some time in silence.
“No, just give it an hour. Dean will be strutting in, moping about there not being anything decent to eat and then he’ll make us something because he can’t stand it.”
“You’ve got him all figured out, have you?”
He gives me a look that means nothing good. “He’s a good little minion to have in our group.”
I snort. “So, what do I bring to the table that I got accepted as your friend so easily?”
He looks at me for a long time. So long, I’m starting to get kind of uncomfortable. He’s really seriously thinking about it.
“You brought love back home, even if you don’t believe in love anymore. You have that same quality my mom had, you know? You make me feel at home. Make us feel at home.”
My mouth runs dry as I hear the words he says, my hand suddenly getting sweaty. My heart warms as I let it sink in. We stare at each other, without saying a thing, because what the fuck do I answer to that? That’s in the top five of best things anyone ever said to me. And to compare me to his mom is the highest praise O could ever give, making me feel special.
“Thanks,” is all I say as I look closely at his hazel eyes. We’re sitting so close together I can see the different shades of light brown in his eyes. There’s a small aura of yellow around his irises that’s really beautiful.
He sits on the couch and looks outside as he seems lost in thought. We can see the garden from here and it’s mesmerizing to look outside.
“Did you know they were looking into fostering?” he asks me as he breaks our silence.
I hadn’t known that. At that point in my life I was busy with everything, except being in Charlington. I was in college; I was far away and I was busy pretending I had found true love. Whenever my parents had tried to tell me something about what was going on in town, I zoned out. I registered the big stuff, like Mark and Laurie passing away, but all the talk about the bake sale or whatever new hobby Miss Frieda had found this time didn’t stick in my head. I shake my head and don’t answer O, encouraging him to continue talking.
“Jonah and I were talking about moving out after college. He was already making plans to open up Tempest, so we were going to move to Kinseltown and rent an apartment together. Mom always wanted to raise more kids. She couldn’t get pregnant anymore after having me. Maybe that was why she was so willing to take in Jonah when he needed a home. So with Jonah and me leaving home for good, they would have all these empty rooms and wanted to help kids who needed a home.”
“That sounds like them. They would’ve been really good at it. Those kids would've gotten an exceptionally loving home.”
Our faces are really close together as we’re sitting on the couch. I look at his eyes and his lips and I see he's doing the same thing. I wonder what it’d be like to kiss him. Would it be weird? To kiss the boy I’ve always seen as a friend? I bet he’s an incredibly good kisser.
Before I can act on that thought, O’s phone rings. I hate getting interrupted by anything and everything on really inconvenient moments. He takes his phone out of his pocket and watches the screen.
“I’ve got to take this, it’s the police station. It might be an update on Celia.”
I nod as he stands up and I watch him walk to the other side of the room, standing close to the window. I listen in to the short one-sided conversation. There’s not a lot I can hear, it’s mostly the officer talking. O’s face is pale as he thanks the police for informing him and he asks them to keep him updated. He hangs up the phone, puts it back in his pocket and he rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands. He sighs and I don’t like the sound of it. My heart is racing, because I can sense in every fiber of my being that something is wrong. I want to ask him, but I’m afraid. I’d rather hide in ignorant bliss.
Finally he looks at me. There’s a turmoil of emotion and even before he tells me what’s wrong, dread settles in my stomach.
“Police tried to call you, but you didn’t answer,” he says, looking terrified. “They called to give us a heads up. Celia has escaped from the mental institute. Police are out looking for her, but they can’t find her. She might be coming over here.”
My whole body tenses as he speaks the words.
Fuck.
