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Oh. That explains this behavior.
“Oh, good,” I say, smiling. “You’re going to do it?”
He nods. “I am.” He quickly adds, “At least, I’m going to try.”
“I’m really glad to hear it,” I tell him. “You’re going to be awesome.”
Another lull.
“Do you want to. . .would you maybe. . .help me study?”
I smile.
He looks down. It’s hard for him to ask for help, because it’s admitting he needs it. He hates being thought of as “less than,” and just the fact that he’s dropping his pride and asking is so, so huge.
“Like, you know, before?”
This is the side no one sees. This is the personality that stays at arm’s length.
And this is why I’ve loved him for years.
“Of course,” I say.
“All right,” he says. “At the dock?”
“Okay.”
He looks relieved. Like a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders. “Could we start tomorrow night?”
I nod. It’s the least I can do after the way he’s handled things with my house restoration. “I can be there. Unless you want to go somewhere warmer?”
He shakes his head. “No, it needs to be the dock.”
I frown. “You need to study.”
“Yeah.”
“At the dock.”
“Yep.” His face gives nothing away. “And dress warm.”
I keep frowning.
A pause.
“I’ll go now.” And with a weird pat on my shoulder, he leaves.
What. The heck. Was that?
After he leaves, I’m alone in my house.
I’m alone in my house for the first time since the fire.
I walk around, aimlessly, aware of the time and the fact that I need to get over to the bookshop. But something draws me back downstairs. Back into my office. Where I was when my whole world went sideways.
I stand at the top of the stairs and wait for the anxiety to roll over me.
None comes.
