“Beautiful, isn’t it? Josh made it.” He’s staring, with pride, at the table, and thankfully, not at my face. My hand stops moving but I don’t look away from the table. I pull my arm in and settle back onto the sofa in time to see Josh standing in the doorway from the kitchen, watching us. Mr. Leighton looks up. “What was it, Josh? A Christmas gift?”
“Mrs. Leighton’s birthday.” Josh’s hands are shoved in his pockets and he’s looking past us at the table. He doesn’t step any further into the room until Drew comes in behind him, forcing him to move.
“Your big ass truck is blocking me in,” he says, slapping Josh on the back. “Sorry, Mom.” He turns, looking halfway contrite about his language. I’ve heard a lot worse than that out of his mouth. I wonder if he thinks his mother is even remotely fooled, because I’m betting she knows his act pretty well.
“Book club,” she taunts, holding up her hand as if balancing a tray.
“Noted,” he responds, shifting his attention back to Josh. “Can you please move your truck so I can take Nastya home?” he begs with sarcasm.
“Didn’t you say she lives in Josh’s neighborhood?” Mrs. Leighton asks. I think I actually hear her loading the bullets into that question.
Oh no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Please no.
“Josh, can you drop her off? It’s silly for you both to go in the same direction when Josh is going there anyway.” She seems to look at all of us at once. How does she do that? We aren’t even standing next to one other. It’s more than unnerving.
Between Josh and I, I don’t know which one of us looks the most horrified. We’re both on equal ground with this one. Josh nods in resignation and I try to look like I think this is a good plan. A good, logical, practical, not-at-all-awkward plan.
Drew and his parents walk us out to the driveway. Sarah never re-emerged after the phone call, which is fine with me. Josh unlocks the car with his remote and Drew opens the door for me while I try to figure out how high I have to hike my skirt up to step into the truck without tearing it. I really don’t want to end the evening by flashing my pink heart polka dot underwear at Drew’s dad. Once I manage to get in, Drew’s mom comes over to the passenger side. Thankfully I’m already up and seated so I don’t have to worry about being hugged again, but what comes next is almost worse.
“Thank you for coming. It was so nice to meet you. We’ll see you next Sunday at six?” It’s a question without much question involved. She tilts her head sideways to look past me at Josh. “You can pick her up on your way, right?” She did it again. She’s good. I try to shake my head. I could write a note for this. This would be note-worthy. I look around frantically for a piece of paper but the truck is as barren as it was the first time I rode in it. Nothing. At this point I’m hoping Josh might save me, save us both. Maybe he has plans and will have to decline and I can nod in unison. No such luck.
“No problem. Thanks for dinner, Mrs. Leighton, Mr. Leighton,” he nods at Drew’s father.
“One day we’ll get you to call us Jack and Lexie,” he laughs, shaking his head as if he knows this will never happen. “Maybe when you’re thirty.”
“Good night, Mr. Leighton,” Josh responds.
Drew waves from the front porch, already on his cell phone, as Josh backs the truck down the long driveway. Ten minutes in a car with Josh Bennett feels much longer than ten minutes in a car with Drew. Drew fills all the silence without ever realizing that he’s doing it. Josh melts into the silence like he’s part of it. He doesn’t say a word on the way home until he pulls into Margot’s driveway for the third time now.
“You can get out of it if you want, you know. But you should go. She likes you.”
I nod and open the door to the truck. I can’t step down and reach the ground, and trying to jump in these shoes, no matter how short the distance, is not going to end with my ankles intact. I bend over and slide my left shoe off, followed by my right, and hop out onto the driveway, turning to shut the door.
“You’re going to need better shoes if you want to get near the tools. Mr. Turner will never let you in the construction area in those things.” He shakes his head as if he can’t believe he’s telling me this. I think it might physically hurt him to talk to me. I don’t know what the right response to that is. I don’t think Mr. Turner is planning to let me near the tools no matter what shoes I’m wearing. I nod again and close the door.
It’s almost ten at this point. Normally I would be throwing on sneakers and running clothes right about now. I’m torn in half between needing to run and knowing it can’t serve its whole purpose tonight. For the first time in two weeks, I’m not really sure I want to run. I think better when I’m moving and I have plenty to think about tonight, but that’s the problem. I don’t have a treadmill to run on here so I have to go out, but when I’m running outside, I have to fragment my mind. I have to keep part of it constantly, acutely aware of every sound, every echo, every movement going on around me. It makes it hard to figure out the things I need to figure out. It’s the same way I have to split my focus every time I’m around other people so I don’t accidentally respond to something or someone. It’s natural to want to talk and I have to remain constantly on alert so that I don’t slip. I thought it would get easier. It should have been harder when I first stopped. But it’s the opposite. When I first stopped I had absolutely nothing I wanted to say. I wasn’t tempted at all. Now, more and more, I find things I’m desperate to say. They constantly bombard my mind and I have to choke them back. It’s exhausting.
I decide against braving the assault on my senses and I stay in. This whole night has been draining enough.
CHAPTER 15
Josh
“Party at Kara’s Friday night. You in?”
I look at Drew as if this is a rhetorical question. It should be.
“At some point I’ll get you to come with me.” No you won’t. “Fine. I have a backup plan. And there she is.” I look up to see Nastya coming down the hall towards us. She’s still wearing those shoes. We’ll be starting to work soon and it’s true what I told her. Mr. Turner won’t let her near the workshop unless she’s got on decent shoes that will protect her feet. She obviously doesn’t care.
“Shouldn’t I have been the backup plan?”