“I don’t know,” I sigh, actually a little disappointed about probably not being able to go. “I kind of have an interview tomorrow morning…”
“We’ll bring you back before 11. Come on, it’ll be fun! There’s a singles night at that nice cocktail place 10 minutes from here. Ikram and I were going anyway.”
“A singles night?” I snort.
“Yeah, when you go inside the bar, they give you a green or red wristband—green for singles, red for taken,” she explains excitedly, “and whenyou wear the green one you can have 25% off cocktails. You also get hit on by other green wristband wearers but, who cares? We’re there for the booze and to get to know each other.”
I’m surprised that I’m actually considering it. Making friends has never been my thing. But it was mainly because I knew that I wasn’t hanging around long. And also because I wanted to be near Jack in case of emergencies. Now, Jack has a whole team of personal care workers to take care of him, and he seems adamant on settling us here. So maybe Evie’s right. And after all, that’s what Jack wants me to do…
“Alright. But I really need to get home at 11 or before. I can’t screw up the last part of the interview by showing up hungover at the LAPD.”
“At the LAPD? Oh my god, what job did you apply to? Wait—don’t tell me. You’ll tell us all about it tonight.”
She claps her hand frantically as she stands up, and the smile I give her doesn’t seem so forced anymore.
“Alright. I need to get moving. I promised Jack that I was going to prepare my mother’s famous Cape Malay Chicken Curry. I’ll make a lot so I can put it into little containers and you guys can have it for a few meals.”
That does sound good. “I’ve never heard of that dish,” I admit.
“It’s an African dish,” she beams. “My mom’s a chef, and she loves to cook recipes her own parents cooked for her when she was a child. She grew up in Porto Novo, Cape Verde. My grandparents loved to travel and try out food everywhere they went. Learned all the recipes and taught them to my mom, who opened her restaurant here with my dad, and then taught the recipes to me. Cape Malay Chicken Curry is actually one of my favorites. I’m sure you’ll like it!”
She walks back inside and I stay here, staring at nothing in front of me.
Evie seems actually nice. I don’t think I ever doubted that to be fair. I really hope I can manage to let go of my constant need to help Jack. What if he needs help and they aren’t around? Will the personal care worker on call be reactive enough?
Why is it so fuckinghardto trust people?
Wait, actually, you know what? Scratch that. I know why. Because of our parents and siblings. Because when he needed them the most, they turned their back on him. Onus. Because until now, most of the people we trustedleft us behind. Jack’s sexual orientation and personal life should never have mattered. Our parents were still our parents, and no matter what gender he prefers to share his bed with, he still deserved to be cared for.
I stay outside for a couple of hours, working on my composite drawing techniques using my tablet. The last time I worked as a forensic sketch artist was in Chicago, just before we moved to Seattle. So, roughly seven months ago.
I’ve studied towards it in university, graduating in fine arts and studying 3D modeling and computer sciences. I also took a couple of anatomy classes with the biology majors—Nate being one of them—and got some of them to pose for me a few times. Well, not really “some”. Actually, only Nate. The other kept standing me up…
I was nine years old when I decided I wanted to be an artist. Thirteen when I chose to focus mostly on drawing and sketching people. Fifteen when I first mentioned composite drawing, after watching an episode ofBonesand telling Jack that Angela’s character was my role model.
If it wasn’t for Jack’s condition, I would probably be working full time. I love that job, despite how tough it can be. The worst is recreating the crime scenes, but as a freelancer, I don’t get much of those.
“What’s up, Sunshine?”
I lift my head in surprise, and my eyes meet Jack’s smiling ones.
“Hey, how was your appointment?”
“It was fine,” he waves a hand dismissively and I cock a brow at the gesture. “You know, the usual shit. I’m sick, it’s sad, I’m doomed, they’ll monitor me, make me do way too many ECGs, and then eventually I’ll die and they won’t be able to do shit for me.”
I frown. He’s not usually so blunt about all this.
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Yeah. It’s been brought to my attention that I needed to be more… Transparent. With how I truly feel. It’s been a long day, and my back hurts,that’s all. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” I add quickly, leaning to take his hand in mine. “Never apologize for what you’re feeling and going through. Is there anything I can do?”
“Well…” He pauses and rolls his eyes innocently. “Actually, Evie told Ikram that she wanted to take you out for drinks tonight. And since I’m in pain and I’m most likely going to call Nate to torture me a little more, I think we should skip dinner.Soyou can go for drinks AND food.”
Okay…
“You don’t want me around when Nate’s here.”
