I’m convincing enough that I almost believe myself. Almost.
“Okay, I have, like, one million questions, conservatively,” Noah says. “But I have to go to the OR, so maybe record the rest of this conversation or something so I can listen back later when I’m trying to sleep in an uncomfortable on-call room bed.”
“We will absolutely do that,” I joke with what I think is the last bit of humor I can manage.
Noah’s face lights up. “Really?”
“Fuck no,” Cooper says on a laugh. “Go pull some teeth.” He disconnects the call, glancing back up at me. “You okay, El?”
I nod, even though the answer is,not right this minute I’m not. “I’ll be fine. I just need to get my head around this. I’ve been thinking about the girl from the plane for months, and now all of a sudden she’s here and she’s my student and I think I have a little bit of whiplash.”
Jo nods. “Of course you do. It’s a lot, El. Do you want to talk about it some more?”
I shake my head because I’m entirely out of energy for talking. If I thought I could get away with leaving right now and retreating back to my apartment to check on my plants and play with my dog I would, but that’s not exactly the way we operate. “Nah, I’m good.”
She studies me for a minute, like she’s trying to decide whether I’m telling the truth or not, and at this point, I’m noteven entirely sure myself. “Okay, but you know you can always talk to us, right?”
This time when I smile, I really mean it because it was a good day when Jordan brought Jo Evans into this family. “I know, Jo Jo. I appreciate you.”
She grins. “I know you do. I’m excellent. Now, can I feed you?” She glances down at her phone. “Our dinner orders should be here any minute.”
“What’s on the menu?” I ask. Last summer when Jordan and Jo first became friends, before they were dating, they started the tradition of placing a whole bunch of take-out orders for disaster movie night. I don’t totally understand why they do it, but they’ve carried on the tradition since she moved to Boston to be with him, so movie night dinner is always a kind of choose your own adventure.
Jordan wraps an arm around Jo’s waist and tugs her closer to him. “Jo Jo was in a weird mood tonight, so she went with the Chinese food, pizza, tacos, hot wings combo.”
Jo grins at me. “I skipped lunch, and you know how I can never choose one of anything. Plus, bless you for bringing the brownies, and we’re making candy popcorn with mini Reese’s cups, even though I maintain thatIndependence Daydoesn’t really count as a disaster movie.” She narrows her eyes at Cooper, who holds up his hands.
“Listen, aliens invade Earth to shoot lasers out of their spaceships and blow shit up. That feels like a disaster to me.”
Jo shakes her head, a disappointed look on her face. “Agree to disagree, Coop, but we live to fight another day. Anyway, we’ll probably have to lay on the floor after we eat all the things, but I’m weirdly fine with that.”
Jordan, Jo, and Cooper start arguing about whether the disaster has to be a natural disaster to be officially considered a disaster movie, and I tune them out while I take stock of myself.It’s something I’ve done for as long as I can remember when that familiar darkness starts to seep in. One of my many coping mechanisms. The ones that keep my small bouts of depression largely hidden from the people I love most.
The day is catching up with me though. Finding Amelia, having breakfast together, knowing she’s close but still so far away. Wondering how I’m going to be just her advisor when every instinct I have is screaming that we could be so much more.
All the way through dinner andIndependence Day, my brain goes darker. When I watch Jo and Jordan snuggle up on the couch, happy and wildly in love, and when I glance down at my phone for the hundredth time to check and see if maybe Amelia texted me again, even though I know there would be no reason for her to. When Cooper complains more about the coworker he can’t stand, and when Noah calls back after his surgery for more gossip.
The heaviness. The weight. The low hum of anxiety, just below the surface.
It doesn’t usually last long, but when it hits, it hits fast, and it hits hard. It always has.
As soon as the movie is over, I jump up and say goodnight to everyone, leaving as fast as I can. The second I open my apartment door, I know this isn’t the right place for me. Sometimes, when the darkness sets in, being alone is what I want. And sometimes, I need someone else.
One person, in particular.
I whistle for Killer and scoop her up when she runs into the entryway, grabbing the small box by the door with my other hand. With my dog tucked under one arm and the box under the other, I close the door behind me. Jogging down the stairs, I walk out of the house and right next door.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ELLIOT
Cece opens her front door, a look of understanding on her face and her eyes going soft when she sees me. “I had a feeling I would see you tonight. There’s my great-granddog,” she croons, plucking Killer out from under my arm and kissing her nose then stepping aside so I can walk past her into her house.
“What made you think I would end up here?” I ask, stepping into her living room. The darkness lifts just slightly in the brightly colored space. With its vaulted ceilings, big squashy couches, abstract art, family pictures, and knickknacks from Cece’s travels scattered everywhere, it’s warm and cozy, and the comfort of it calls to me.
Cece puts Killer down on the dog bed she keeps in the corner then links her arm through mine, leading me towards the couch. When I sit, setting the box on the couch beside me, she drapes a blanket over my lap and then leans down, laying a hand on my cheek, her eyes steady on mine behind her purple-framed glasses. “Something in the air tonight, darling. The spirits told me you might be paying me a visit.” I laugh despite myself, andCece smiles in approval. “Be right back,” she says, sweeping out of the room in a cloud of multicolored fabric and Chanel No.5, a combination that is completely incongruous and wholly Cece.
Two minutes later, she comes back with a couple of beers and hands one to me, taking the seat next to me on the couch. “Tell me where it hurts, El.”
