He was in his office, and I dreaded someone overhearing.
"I think that's better, yes."
There was a pause.
"Wh-that makes things weird," he said in a choppy tone.
"I should have talked to you in person. I'm sorry. I'm in Montana, and—"
"No. I don't care that you called. It would've been even more awkward to say in person. I'm saying it weird for you to come work here. Or church, actually. Jess and Abigail, you know, they found new church homes or whatever." (He was referring to women he had dated in the past.)
"Yeah, but I thought since no one knew about it, then…"
"I don't know," he said. "It might be better if you just…"
We were both trailing off—not finishing our sentences.
It was painful, but Marcus was telling me to find a new church. I don't know what I expected him to say when I told him I didn't want to go on another date.
I didn't go see my sister at the restaurant.
I called and told her I wasn't feeling my best, which was the truth. She came home later with food for me.
"Heyy, I brought you some orange juice and breakfast food," she said from the living room.
I heard her from my bedroom, and I came out.
"Why are you crying?" she said.
"What? I'm not," I answered in a neutral-to-cheery tone.
I had stopped crying a while ago, so I was telling the truth. My ears were still stopped up from it, though, and so was my nose.
"Yes, you are. What's the matter? Was that guy mean to you?"
"Wh-no."
"What's going on then?" she asked, staring at me.
"Nothing, seriously."
"Now I'm really worried because I know you're lying."
"No, I'm just mad at myself," I said.
"About what?"
I shrugged and looked downward. "I don't know. For being scared, I guess. I'm sorry. I don't want to put this on you. I didn't think you were coming home till later."
"We slowed down by ten-thirty, and Cal took over. What are you so scared of?"
"Nothing this breakfast can't fix," I said, making a happy face and using a genuine tone. I was a good actress when I thought hiding my feelings helped others.
"Josie, you are the least dramatic person I know. I can't remember the last time I saw you cry. You didn't cry when I slammed your hand in the car door last summer. Not even when Pa-Paw died. You never cry. If you're crying, that means you're actually letting yourself feel something, which is great."
"No, I wouldn't say that," I said, feeling like I wanted to cry again at the thought of what made me cry in the first place.
"What is it?" she said, moving in front of me and trying to make eye contact. She was genuinely concerned.
