For the past three hours she’s been all silence and one-word answers when she wasn’t pretending to be asleep. Someone who doesn’t know Julie would think she’s pissed, but I know better. The anxiety is coming off her in waves, rolling straight towards me. She is scratching at her wrist and drumming her fingers on her thigh and when I laid my hand on hers to stop it, she tossed it off, and the look she gave me was a jagged knife slipped between my ribs. Her eyes were shattered, and I would burn down the world to figure out why, but she’s locked up tight, and I can’t find the key to open her back up again.
I try one last time, knowing it’s futile, but hoping anyway. “But it’s an igloo, Juliette. I’ve always wanted to eat in an igloo. Haven’t you?”
She whips around and stares daggers at me.
“Oh, my fucking god, Asher. If you want to eat in an igloo so badly, go eat in an igloo, but I’m not coming. Take me to the hotel.”
Then she turns around as far as she can in the seat, staring out the window into the darkness, fingers tapping out a rhythm on her thigh. Weirdly, her outburst makes me feel a little better. Anger is better than total silence and devastated eyes. But I can’t help but wonder where my Juliette went and whether I’m going to get her back.
“Here’s your key.”
I hand Julie her room key and she mumbles thanks under her breath before making a beeline for the elevators, leaving me staring at her back for a second before I take off after her. She doesn’t look at me as we wait for the elevator, and we make the ride up to the fifth floor in silence, her eyes firmly fixed on the floor while her hands tremble on the handle of her suitcase.
It feels wrong not to reach out to her. Not to lay my hands on hers and gather her up and tell her that whatever is going on, we can work through it together. I feel myself leaning towards her, all of me reaching out to be whatever she needs me to be right now. This distance feels so wrong. Julie and I aren’t meant to be this far apart.
When the elevator reaches our floor, she gets out first, and by the time I catch up with her outside our doors, she is fumbling with her room key, shoving it into the slot while it beeps and flashes red. Her breathing is fast, her hand still shaking, and I know she’s about to fall apart. I don’t understand why, and she’s not going to let me help her when all I want to do is take whatever it is that is weighing on her and carry it myself.
Not able to watch her struggle for a second longer, I reach out and take her hands, gently pulling them away from the door. She stiffens but doesn’t protest when I take the key from her and fit it into the lock, pushing the door open.
I hand her the key and she turns to go into the room. Before she can make it all the way in, I capture her wrist gently in my hand, pulling her back and spinning her to face me. Letting her wrist go, I cup her face in both of my hands, thumbs strokingher cheekbones as I lift her head to look at me. My heart lurches in my chest at the look on her face. She looks exhausted. She looks sad. I try one last time.
“Talk to me, Juliette.”
“I can’t,” she whispers, eyes glassy. “I just…I can’t.”
I lean in and kiss her forehead, and she lets out a shuddery breath, her eyes dropping closed.
“You can. You can tell me anything. I’ll be right next door if you need me. You’re safe with me, Juliette.”
At that, her breath hitches and she spins away from me into her room, shoving the door closed behind her. Letting her go when every instinct I have is screaming that she doesn’t really want to be alone is the most counter-intuitive thing I have ever done, but without much of a choice, I let myself into the adjoining room. Stripping out of my clothes as I walk, I grab all the blankets and pillows off the bed and pile them up on the floor. Then I sit and lean my back against the door adjoining our two rooms hoping that if she won’t let me in, I’ll at least be able to hear her if she needs me.
Julie
The tears are already falling when the door to my hotel room closes behind me. I can’t even make it to the bed. I just sit right down on the floor, wrapping my arms around my legs and laying my head on my knees as I let them come. I sit there for what feels like hours as tears pour down my face. Every time they slow, I think about the string of texts on Asher’s phone, theway his hand feels when he lays it over mine, and I find a new well of unshed tears to cry.
I should be appalled at myself for crying over a man. RBG would never. Hillary would never. Gloria would definitely never. But Julie Parker, it seems, does. Because maybe, when the man is thoughtful and kind and sees you and makes you feel safe and takes you to do things like howl with the wolves because he thinks you’ll like it and it turns out you do, he’s worth crying over a little. Or a lot. A whole lot.
When I’m all cried out, I drag myself to the bathroom. I wince when I look at myself in the mirror. My eyes are puffy and red-rimmed, my skin blotchy. I splash water on my face, and without the energy to do anything else, I take off my clothes and fall into bed.
I realize suddenly that I’m not used to being alone. Even though I’ve slept by myself every night we’ve been on this trip, with Asher in the next room, and knowing that I’d see him in the morning, I never really felt alone. But now, with my brain screaming at me that something isn’t right, and unable to let go of what I saw on Asher’s phone, I think maybe I have never felt so lonely. Suddenly desperate for some sort of connection, I reach for my phone on the nightstand.
Me
Hey, Hal.
Hallie
Jules! How’s the open road?
I consider telling her that everything is fine. But everything is very not fine, and I don’t have the energy to pretend itis.
Me
Not so great.
Hallie
Seriously? What happened? Are you okay?
