I don’t blink or breathe, afraid it’ll disappear or this is all a dream, but when she locks eyes with me, her small smile just barely deepens, and I swear my brain short-circuits.
Why was I anxious again?
“I figured you could use them. I know it’s been a week, but sometimes the smallest cuts take the longest to heal.” My gaze drops to her plush lips. “And I wasn’t sure if you had a lemon squeezer, but if you do, now you have another so the other doesn’t feel lonely.”
“As a matter of fact, I don’t have one, so this one will come in handy. And you know…” she says, her eyes distant and reminiscent. It makes me wonder if she’s thinking about her mom. She never talks about her, and I don’t want to ask questions because it’s hard for me when people ask about Adrian. “It’s been a while since I put limes and lemons in my water, but I think I’ll be doing that again. Thanks, Garcia.”
I don’t mean to, but I puff out my chest, feeling immensely proud. “You know, you can call me Danny since we’re friends, or are we not…”
It’s not a question, but at the same time it is. Maybe it’s desperate, but I just want to hear it come out of her mouth.
“I thought that was already established? Don’t friends call each other by their last names?” She seems genuinely confused, and I feel like a dumbass.
“Right, that was already established. I’m sorry. I didn’t?—”
“You don’t have to apologize. That’s actually on me. I…” She becomes quiet as she takes out the stuff from the bags. When she opens the fridge, my heart sinks at how empty it is. With her back still to me, she says, “I’m sorry if I was…ama bitch. I know I come off abrasive and I’m not the most…bubbly. I mean, people call me Wednesday and?—”
“Josefine, look at me.”
She still doesn’t turn, so I go to her. Once I’m standing in front of her, she cranes her head back to stare up at me.
My fingers itch to brush them along her cheek. There isn’t a day I don’t think about how her skin felt on my fingers the night I helped change her tire.
“I don’t know who made you feel that way, but I don’t see you like that. I just see Josefine.” I take one step closer; my arms hang limply at my sides, but they feel anything but that. They feel heavy, and I’m desperate to reach out and hold her. “I still don’t know you as much as I’d like, but like I told you that night on the cliff, I want to get to know you. I want you to let me in and when you’re ready, I’ll be here. And if there’s ever anything you want to talk about, like your mom, I’ll be here too.”
Her nose flares and those beautiful brown eyes soften before she casts them down. She tucks her hair behind her ear and nods.
That nod tells me everything I need to know, and for the first time since I met her, I feel like she’s really allowing me in.
I don’t push or prod and together we stock up her fridge and then head out to her pool.
Anxiety flares in my stomach and I start sweating despite how cool the weather is today. Just as I’m about to tell Josie that this is a bad idea and walk back inside, she slips her hand in mine, keeping her gaze on the pool.
“Your sister told me about your brother, Adrian,” she solemnly says, looking up at me. My heart painfully aches, but as she begins to rub soft circles with her thumb, I feel it less. “I’m not going to force you to do something you’re not ready to do. But I want you to know that if you want this, I will help you.”
I’m a little at a loss for words because where I’m usually riddled with so much anxiety, the fear paralyzes me, I don’t necessarily feel that right now.
Maybe it’s my sweaty palm that she feels or how tightly I’m gripping hers, but she squeezes my hand and stares at me so deeply, her eyes become engraved in my brain.
“I got you,” she softly and earnestly says, but more than anything, it sounds like a promise and I believe her.
20
JOSIE
I watch him closely,still with my hand in his. I spot the haphazard pulse on his tanned neck, the way it bounces madly like it’s caged and trying to be let out. And I feel his sweaty hand tightly clutching mine.
I don’t point out or wince at how firmly he’s holding my hand. I only continue to rub soft circles and repeat the same words he said to me the other day.
“I got you,” I gently say, keeping my gaze on his apprehensive one. “I promise, Danny.”
His dark brown brows quirk up, his breath quietly hitches, and his hand loosens.
After I left the girls yesterday, I came straight home and did as much research as I could. I may professionally know how to swim, have been taught by some of the best there is, and be certified to be able to teach swim lessons, but that doesn’t mean I know exactly how to help him.
I can’t begin to imagine what Daniel went through. His sister didn’t go into detail about what happened, but the little she shared is enough for me to understand how he’s feeling. A combination of survivor’s guilt and a persisting trauma.
I could’ve looked into what happened because he’s popular enough an internet search would’ve been sufficient, but I don’t want to invade his privacy. I’m sure if it’s something he wanted to talk about, he would’ve already told me. Or maybe he’s trying to not think about what happened because like me, I don’t like thinking about what happened to Mom.
