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Jameson reaches across the console and takes my hand, his touch gentle, like he wants to console me.
I know,he’ll say.I completely understand.
“That’s bullshit,” Jameson says.
My laugh is over half snort. “Is it?”
“Whatever you did before today isn’t nothing. It taught you—” He waves our joined hands in the air. “Something. So it wasn’t a waste, even if you get really into charcoal sketches.”
“Same to you.”
A glance across at me. “What?”
“Your life was worth it, too.”
Jameson doesn’t say anything.
“And I think you know that, because I already told you.”
He merges to the left lane, passes a white pickup truck, and comes back to the right. “Did you?”
“Yeah. You were chopping wood and trying to convince me that your family didn’t want you at the hospital, and obviously they did. And even if they didn’t want you at the hospital for some reason, they all came to your engagement photo session and had family photos taken after, so if they’re faking how much they love you, they’rereallycommitted.”
This time, the silence lasts four songs.
“Was something not right? About the photos, I mean. It seemed like we were having a good time, but then…” Then Jameson had blurted out that he loves me, and I know he didn’t mean it as a grand confession. I know he didn’t mean to say it at all. “I wasn’t upset about…the thing.”
“The part where I told you I love you? That thing?”
“That’s the one.”
“You didn’t seem upset about it.”
“I know you didn’t actually mean to say it.” He gives me a skeptical look. “I know you meant, like,I fucking love you.Like,you’re pretty cool and hilarious for making a dick joke even though you’re an uptight law school dropout.”
“I’ve never thought you were uptight. And you can’t be a dropout unless you actually go.”
“Jameson.”’
“Youarecool.”
His hand is warm on mine. I don’t think he knows he’s tightened his grip. I don’t plan on mentioning it.
“Is that what got to you, then?”
“Why do you think something got to me?” He accelerates until he’s going five over the speed limit. In the dark, it feels faster.
“Because of your face.”
He puts on a deeply offended expression. “Are you suggesting that my face became less hot over the course of our photo session?”
“I’m suggesting that by the end, you were barely even there. It was like you were possessed by a method actor who was going to play you in a movie.”
“That’s elaborate,” Jameson says, almost to himself.
We listen to another two songs. A commercial comes on. I guess the ninety commercial-free minutes are over.
“I was happy.” Jameson starts off strong and determined. “I was—Ishouldhave been happy. And I was. Happy. I was happy.”
