My heart does a stupid flip in my chest. “I’m glad.”
After class I insist on smoothies from the juice bar next door. I’m ready to plead with him to get the smoothie teasingly named the Toxic Sludge. But Silas orders one after looking at the menu for approximately two seconds. He sees my raised eyebrows.
“What? My diet is 90% kale and Greek yogurt. When I see it on the menu, I always go for the kale.”
“Interesting.” I give him a once-over. Even after the intense yoga class, he might as well be a supermodel. His tousled hair is tied back, his cheekbones sharp enough to cut, and he wears his sweatpants and soft-looking sweatshirt like they were made for him.
We sit at a small table by the window.
"I feel like I got hit by a truck." His voice has less edge than usual, almost relaxed.
“Yeah?” I hide my grin behind my smoothie. “You look like you just smoked pot for the first time.”
He shoots me a sly look. “Thatwouldbe a first.”
“Wait, you haven’t smoked pot? Not even in college?”
“Nope.” He smiles into his smoothie. “I’ve always had drug tests hanging over my head. It’s not worth stressing myself out.”
“Wowww. You know, I’ve known you for years. But I’m still learning all kinds of things about you, Silas.”
“Stick around. Next I’ll juggle a pile of flaming chainsaws.”
“Look who has jokes all of the sudden.” I bite my lip, leaning in and smiling. “You need to do yoga more often.”
We're quiet for a minute, comfortable in the silence. People flow past the window outside while morning light streams through the glass, warm on my face. I glance at him.
“Tell me something.”
“Like what?” He takes the final sip of his smoothie and then nudges his cup away. “Something funny? Or something serious?”
Playing with my straw, I shrug. “Whichever one you feel like.”
He stares off into the distance for a moment. “I had a dream about my mom.”
That’s not what I expected him to say at all. “Yeah?”
His head bobs. “You know about the whole extortion thing?”
Silas is referring to the fact that his mom went to jail last year over continued attempts to extort money from his brother Hunter. From what I read, Silas’s mom managed all the brothers’ money at one point and likely stole from all of them. I nod slowly. “A little.”
Silas purses his lips.
"My mom liked to draw. Sketches mostly. Landscapes, buildings, people's faces." He stares at his smoothie cup like it might hold answers. "After she left, after everything came out about the embezzlement and the extortion, I threw all her drawings away. I thought it would hurt less if I erased her completely."
My throat goes tight. I set down my cup carefully, giving him space to continue or stop.
"It didn't help. I still thought about her. I missed her even though I was so fucking angry. Am, actually. Iamso angry at her. It really pisses me off that I had a nice dream about her. She doesn’t deserve that."
"You're allowed to miss her and be angry at the same time," I say softly. "Those things can exist together."
He nods once with this tiny gesture of vulnerability.
"I regret throwing the drawings away," he admits. "They were good. She was talented. That part of her was real even if everything else was a lie."
I reach across the table and stop just short of touching his hand. The choice is his whether he wants the contact. He doesn't pull away, just stares at where our hands almost meet.
"Thank you for telling me," I say.
