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The narrator tells the story of some young woman who went missing thirty years ago with no links to any crime. That could be me. I get that my sisters and parents would look for me, but no one is waiting at home for me. That it would probably take days before someone noticed I was missing. It hits me in the gut. No one would notice. They would just think I was busy doing something in my thoughts.
“Avery?”
I shake my head and look at Jon.
“Are you alright?”
“Of course.”
“You’re crying.”
“Am not.” But even as I say it, I feel a tear slip down my face.
“If you say so.”
I roll my eyes and get myself under control. At least as much as I can get myself under control. I have never been able to control my emotions.
“Have you always had a problem with insomnia?”
I glance at him again and realize he’s watching the TV or pretending to watch. The light from it dances over his features, and I can’t stop the sigh that slips from my mouth. He looks at me.
“What? You just want to sit here in silence?”
I realize he thinks I’m annoyed, and I am so happy about that. I don’t need him thinking that I want to jump his body.
“No. And yes, I’ve always had a problem with sleep. I have ADHD, so it sometimes tends to give me issues at night. This time is one of the worst.”
“This time?”
I nod. “I haven’t really had a good night’s sleep in weeks.”
Lies. It’s been months, really.
“What happened?”
Out of nowhere, the memories of the last few months hit me, and I bite back a sob. I should be over this or at least handle it better. But for some reason, I can’t get past it.
“Avery?”
I blink back the tears. “My grandmother died.”
“Ah.”
“She helped raise me, but she had dementia these last few years. Thankfully, when she died, it was in her sleep, peacefully.”
He nods. I look back at the true crime documentary series. I decide to pull up one of my streaming services and selectSuperbad.
“Why did you change the channel?”
“It’s this or Columbo. They were Grannie Pam’s favorites.”
For a long time, we sit in silence as the movie starts.
About fifteen minutes in, Jon stirs. “This was one of your grandmother’s favorite movies?”
I smile and look at him. “Yeah. She even named her cat General McLovin.”
A bark of laughter catches me by surprise. His eyes are lighter, and dammit, he has dimples. No. Not fair.
