Brody turns for the DVD bin and shuffles through the stacks, pulling out movies I wouldn’t choose.
“Brody, I don’t know how I feel about this.”
“Why don’t I go alone?” he offers.
I know that I can’t stop him from visiting Adam, assuming he finds out where he’s located, and I don’t have say in the matter, and it’s never been an issue before. Most people who were aware of the accident stopped visiting Adam years ago. It’s as if he’s just a memory now.
“He doesn’t know you,” I tell him.
I don’t know if he even remembers me. I convince myself there’s a look in his eye, saying he knows who I am, but I don’t know for sure.
“I’ll introduce myself.”
“Why are you insisting on this?”
“I want to be a part of your life, and he’s part of your life. He needs to be a part of mine too.”
“Can I think about it for the night?”
“Of course. You can bring the DVDs if you decide against me tagging along.”
I feel the need to stare at Brody for a long second as he continues to dig through the DVDs, wondering why he seems to give in to me so easily sometimes and other times won’t take no for an answer.
“I don’t like this.”
Brody straightens the pile of DVDs in his hand and peers into my eyes. “Which part?”
“You see me as broken. That’s all you see now. It’s all you’ll ever see. It doesn’t feel good.”
“What is it you need, Journey? I’m trying my hardest, and everything I do is pushing you farther away. Just tell me how to be around you?”
“I don’t have an answer.”
Which leads to silence until we make our way through check out. “If I pushed too hard today, I’m sorry,” Brody says as we walk toward the doors.
“Stop apologizing. You’re not a weak person, and I know you’re not sorry.”
“Fine,” he says. “I’m not sorry. I’m a go-getter. I don’t give up easily, and it might be the one thing to push you away.”
“Maybe,” I agree.
Standing before the sliding doors, I realize we lost track of time today, and it’s dark. Plus, the nice warmth from the sun I felt on the way indoors should have been a warning for imminent rain. It’s pouring. Awesome.
“I didn’t think it was going to rain,” Brody says, tightening the knot on the bags, so the DVD’s don’t get wet. “How about I go get the car and pick you up, so you don’t get wet?”
“It’s just water,” I tell him.
He seems surprised by my response. “I didn’t think women enjoy running through downpours.”
“You keep grouping me in with a stereotype, and it’s the very place you keep taking a wrong turn.”
I don’t know if something clicks in Brody’s head after hearing my explanation, but his eyes light up as if he suddenly understands me. I think.
With a step toward the sliding door, I walk out first, feeling the cold drops pummel over me. Brody begins a slow jog, moving past me before realizing I’m still holding steady at a walking pace. It doesn’t matter how fast we get to the Jeep; we’ll still be soaked. Therefore, running will not make a difference.
“Come on; we’re getting soaked,” he shouts.
“We’re already soaked,” I inform him.
