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And I chose do.
Now that I have her alone though, I have to know.
“What… what were youthinking?” I ask.
She clasps her hands in front of her and leans forward on her tiptoes. “That I was helping a friend in need?”
I resist the urge to tell her we aren’t friends. That would be hateful. Unnecessary. “Friends help you move. Friends throw you surprise parties. Friends are honest with you when you can’t be honest with yourself. Friendsdon’t offer to marry you to claim an inheritance.”
Jude’s eyes skitter away from me. “Right. Guess I’m a reallygoodfriend then.”
“Jude!”
“I don’t know what you want from me, Chase. You should be thanking me!” she yells back before blowing past me toward the kitchen.
I follow her. “Thankingyou?”
“Yes!”
I stand in the doorway of the kitchen while Jude fills up a glass milk jug at the sink.
“If I hadn’t stepped in, you would have had, what, two months to find someone to fill the slot of your future wife and that would have been stress I know you don’t need. So –” She goes over to the line of succulents on the window sill and begins to douse each one with water. “I saved the day.”
“Jude, you mean to tell me that you want to enter into a contractually obligated marriage with your best friend’s brother just out of the goodness of your heart?”
Jude clears her throat. “I –”
“You risked your friendship and your freedom just to save me from losing my inheritance? I find that hard to believe.”
“Chase –”
I go a step further. She’s about to break. I’m sure of it. I use these techniques in the courtroom. Of course, in the courtroom, I don’t let my emotions get the better of me and, lest I risk objection from the opposing counsel, I stick to the facts. Here, with Jude, I can use more pathos than ethos. After all, I want the truth.No. Needthe truth.“If you really did this as some selfless act, I’m going to have to check you into a mental institution for delusions of grandeur.”
Jude looks back at me with uncertainty. Finally, that shell of performance has cracked, giving way to an emotion I can’t quite put my finger on. What I do know, though, is that if I can reach into the crack, I can get the truth out of her.
I take a few steps toward her. “Why did youreallydo it, Jude?”
Her gaze lowers. For a second, she looks as though she’s stepped out of some sort of Renaissance painting, the light streaming through the window and bouncing through her hair, creating different values of red, orange and gold.
“I lost my job,” she murmurs, her eyes remaining lowered.
I resist letting my jaw drop. Jude Parry is as overachieving as they come. Her losing her job must be some sort of a fluke. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. That’s just… why I did this.” She turns back around, letting a few more of the succulents drink up.
The answer isn’t fully satisfying. I still have more questions. But I’m not a monster. I know to her a job means something totally different than it does to me. For me, it’s status. For her, it’s security. For me, it’s a kind of game. For her…
It’s her life.
“What happened?”
“They cut the art program,” she says in a monotone voice.
“Ah.”
We both remain silent. Jude’s jug is empty. She returns to the sink, pushing some hair out of her face. Her jaw looks sharp and poised. Holding on to her dignity as best she can.
I wish she didn’t feel she had to posture like that around me.
