“Morning, Jim,” I say, trying to keep a natural feeling in the air.
“Yes, good morning,” he says, still not looking up from his magazine. I wait a second to see if he has more to say, but then continue to the door, until he pauses me again.
“Say, Charlotte? You got a sec?” he says, his magazine now folded closed in his lap. He’s looking at me from the top of his glasses, and the steam emanating from the cup of coffee in front of him feels like it’s trying to give me a sign.
“Sure, what can I do for you, Jim?” I say, feeling like I’m one of his employees. I laugh internally, realizing that that’s how I’ve always felt around him.
“Well, it’s about my son. You see…Trevor is really the only thing in my life that I haven’t…messed up,” he pauses, waiting for me to react, but I have no idea what to say, so I just smile. “I’m sure you’ve heard things about me, some lies…some, sadly, the truth. But I just wanted you to know that when it comes to my son, Charlotte, I’m pretty on top of things.”
My heart is racing so fast that I think it might come out my throat, and I want to vomit from my nerves. I squeeze my hands into fists in front of me, behind the counter so Jim can’t see, and I plaster my smile on my face. “Of course, Jim. Trevor is a good man, and I know you love your son,” I say, not lying, but also leaving out everything else I’d like to add.
“Good, good,” he says, picking up his coffee and opening his magazine again along the counter. “I’m glad we both feel the same way. I just wouldn’t want anything to happen, to mess anything up. This deal he’s brokered, with Cody? You follow me, right?”
I nod lightly, my eyes wide and taking every gesture, every facial insinuation in.
“My son, he’s big on plans—and you’re an important part of that, you know?” Jim says, waiting for me to agree—like I’m signing a contract.
“Yes, sir. I do know,” I say, somehow swallowing silently and breathing despite the dryness of my throat. I stand there, terrified, waiting for Jim to continue, but he never does. He goes back to his article, completely engrossed in it—it’s as if he never noticed me at all.
I slip from the kitchen and wind up the stairs, passing Shelly’s room, where I hear her lightly snoring, already back into her sad pattern. I stop for a moment, look at her door, and consider opening it, laying into her for being a coward. She’s almost dead, the way she lives swallowed up whole in her room, shutting out reality. She’s settling, and all she gets from it are those few days of the year where she throws a party, or Jim buys her something flashy. She’s pretending, but barely existing.
And so am I.
I finally settle on my door. It’s closed, and I know Trevor is on the other side—probably still asleep. I lay my head on the flat panels and run my finger over the handle, knowing what’s coming next. I’m not going to tell Trevor about Cody, and I’m not going to tell him about how I feel. And I’ll look at my cold metal desk, and I’ll continue to pretend that I love that, too. Because I know Jim knows—I know Jim knows everything!
And I know that if I don’t continue to play the part, he’ll ruin everything else for Cody—and I can’t crush Cody’s dream. His dream is bigger than me, and I would be selfish to make him lose everything else that matters to him for me.
Jessie was right—she spun a great tale, and Trevor believed every bit of it. I slipped into bed after showering, and we both woke up hours later together. He spent the rest of the morning doting over me. When I finally insisted that I felt better, he took me to lunch.
But now that we’re pulling up to Cody’s shop, I’m wishing I lied and played the patient just a little while longer. He surprised me with this stop, said he wanted to check in with Cody on the next steps after we were done with our light lunch at the diner. I just smiled and nodded, letting him drive me to what is about to be the worst experience of my entire life.
I can tell Cody’s surprised, too, when we walk up. He’s wiping his hands on a work towel, approaching Trevor with caution and looking at me for affirmation. I nod no, and he bunches his brow, a little confused.
“Brother, how’s it going?” Trevor says, leaning into Cody when he shakes his hand for one of those strange half-hug things men do.
“Uh, good…I guess?” Cody says, his eyes still drifting to me. I can’t look at him, so I step back, and try to be a part of the background.
“Gabe, hey…how’s it going?” Trevor says as he kneels down to acknowledge Gabe under the car.