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I startle and lurch forward, turning my head like I didn’t hear her the first time.
“Like here in Raston?” I was not expecting this. She picks at a fry like she’s thinking about eating it but won’t.
“Yeah, unless you think that’s bad. I... I can’t go home.” The words are firm, and the truth of them drives straight through me.
“Why can’t you go home?” I ask, shifting closer to her.
Her shoulders pinch up to her ears, and fear passes behind her eyes. She’s back to avoiding me, moving around like the vinyl seat is burning her. Curiosity stirs beneath my discomfort, allowing me to pack it up and set it aside. Now I want her story.
“It’s a long story. I don’t want to get into it. But there are some things with my family. I haven’t told them yet, and I’m unsure when I want to. This news could have a big … effect on them.” She is careful as she speaks, and based on the wobble in her voice, there’s a whole lot more to it than what she’s telling me. I want to launch in on her, hammer her with questions, demand truthful answers.
Then Xan’s back in my head.Listen. If she’s lying, she has to feel like it’s the right thing to do. She doesn’t know me at all. She’s protecting herself. I really can’t blame her for that.
“Okay, so if you stay here, you’re going to live in your van pregnant in the winter? Nova, it gets fucking cold here.” She’s from the South. There’s no way she’s living in a van. There’s no way I’m going to let her.
“I…” she starts, and picks at a fry while she thinks.
“You can’t stay in a van in the winter.” My voice lowers into this demanding tone that startles her. Her frown is incredulous, and her cheeks flush. Her breathing kicks up, pumping through her chest.
I rub my eyes and mumble a curse. So, I lasted thirty-five seconds being understanding. But this is ridiculous.
“I could rent a place or something.” She challenges me, but it’s dismissive. She’s moved from being fidgety and skittish to rigid and stubborn in a whiplash-inducing timeframe.
“Can you do that? Do you have a visa to stay in Canada?” Her dismissiveness triggers my need to push back.
“I have a travel visa,” she says, defensiveness creeping in over the stubborn stare.
“That doesn’t mean you can live here. And work? What are you going to do to support yourself?” The unasked question here is,Am I now responsible for you?
Her features darken into a deep scowl, and in hindsight, I see why. Maybe this is why Xan told me to shut my fucking mouth. He might have been trying to help me avoid this hole I’ve suddenly found myself in.
“Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you are? I do not need your support at all,” she hisses, tossing her uneaten fry on the plate. “This was a bad idea.”
She scoots to the edge of the booth and stands. I catch her shaking wrist, stopping her, and she whips around to face me.
“Nova, I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say.” I keep my voice low and glance around the run-down old diner to be sure Patty isn’t watching. “Stay. Please. We need to talk about this.”
She glares at me, shaking her wrist from my grip easily. “Fine. But I am in a place to take care of myself. I don’t need your money. I don’twantyour money.”
“That’s good because, to be honest, I don’t have any money to give you.” I grimace playfully, trying to break the tension between us. After a few seconds, her glare breaks, and she shakes her head in frustration.
She sighs and sits back down, and I squirm in the silence. Both my brothers are quiet all the time. It’s unnerving when they stare at me, working out whatever thoughts are in their head. I’m very different from them. Silence is painful. It fills me up like a balloon until I feel like I’m about to burst. I prefer not to think and just do.
If I have to live in silence, I do it alone.
“Can we like go walk or a drive or something? I’m so uncomfortable right now. This isn’t how I think.” My knees bounce under the table, itching to move.
“Sure,” she says. We get up, and I pay for the fries with a smartass wink in Nova’s direction. All she did was mangle one of them anyway.
I’m aware she’s rich. She has that air about her. And she has a fucking sweet Benz camper van with nicer leather furniture and bigger widescreen tv than my house.
Once we’re out in the crisp fall air, I turn toward the forest. There are a few trails out behind the rec centre. It’s calming there, but Nova lags behind a few steps. Another crash of reality, and I spin to face her. Her eyes dart around, and her chest pumps in rapid breaths. Terror is probably the word I’d use, and of course. I’m not a fucking psycho murderer, but she doesn’t know that.
“We don’t have to go on the paths,” I say at the tree line, the shadows of the trail looking much more menacing than usual. “We can cruise around out here. I just can’t sit still, is all.”
I gather up all my “good dude” vibes and smile at her, but I’m not sure whether I look like a tool or like I’m trying not to shit myself. That’s not far off from the truth. The moments are long and uncomfortable, and I welcome the cool breeze to settle my burning embarrassment.
“No, it’s fine,” she responds after yanking my soul through my nose with her intense stare. “You’re not a weirdo, are you?”
