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I remember the way she was with me—she would pull the weight of my whole body into her with so much force, lower herself down onto me in desperation, buck her hips, ride me as if famished as I held her up. Her tongue would reach for the skin sheathing my shoulder, licking it as if hoping to find something to keep her alive.
As Yoshi asks me a question which my mind tunes out, I stare down at the table. Am I doing everything I swore I wouldn’t? Making it harder on her? Leading her down a path which will only lead to more pain in the long run? Or am I just the prick she spent a night with who she’d rather forget… or does she need this closure as much as I do?
As I begin to second-guess what I’m even doing, a flash of pink catches my eye as Indigo pulls her scarf from around her neck and removes her jacket, her hair falling loose over her long-sleeved black dress. She peers down at the floor for a moment before looking up, her eyes meeting mine in a way which makes her take a sharp inhale that I feel from the opposite side of the room.
She swallows again before turning to Marilla who puts a hand on her forearm.
“Sorry,” I say to Yoshi, realizing he’s waiting for an answer to something. “I—”
“I was just asking if you’d lived in Washington long…”
“My whole life,” I respond. “You?”
“Just two years. I’m enrolled in the journalism course at Georgetown.”
“You want to be a journalist?”
“Yeah,” he replies. “A newsreader.”
“Well, you’ve got the voice for it.”
His face lights up as I give him the compliment. “Thanks! I've wanted that since I was a kid. It’s Indie who encouraged me to go after my dream. Helped me fill out the forms and everything.”
I smile at the thought. “How long have you known her?”
“It’s been… wow, over five years now. We met at high school. Grade ten.”
“Has she changed much?”
“She’s calmed down a bit.”
“Calmed down?” I snigger, raising a brow.
“Yeah, she was a little hellraiser back then. Well, you would be with the crap she’s been through in her life.”
His words stop me cold, ice encasing me, leaving me cracking from the inside.
What she’s been through in her life…
“You mean, the ex-boyfriend?”
“Oh, no. That’s all done with now. I mean… Well… hopefully.” He pauses. “She didn’t tell you about her family?”
I shake my head, some somber note of trepidation seeping into me. “No, she didn’t.”
“Oh, well, maybe I’ll let her tell her own stories.”
I frown, wondering what he means, and if she’d even trust me enough to tell me.
“I mean, we all go through crap, right?” he adds as if to deflect.
“We do.”
“So, you wanted to chat with her,” he repeats, taking several glugs of beer until the glass is half-empty.
“If she’ll listen,” I respond.
This time it’s my turn to drink some more beer, closing my eyes for a moment as the bitter liquid hits my throat, taking away some of the nerves I’m not used to feeling.
