There isnothing sexy about my story, but Journey is looking at me with bedroom eyes, and I can’t decipher if this is her way of showing empathy or comforting me. I don’t know if she understands the depth of what I went through with Pete, but it’s a lot to reveal all at once, even just for myself.
“I know I’m not exactly an open book, Brody, but I understand more than I wish I did.” She’s vague, but I believe that either she or a friend experienced something similar. My concern is if it’s her. I’m not sure I can be the owl in her life. Watching over people is an instinct for me, but being on watch is much different. The responsibility is soul-sucking and endless.
“Are you telling me that you went through something similar, either yourself or with or someone you know or knew?” I ask, feeling the blood drain from my head.Please don’t be you.
“I witnessed a trauma that stole a part of who I am. That’s not something you get back, and I’m certain nobody realizes this when their life shifts in the blink of an eye.”
“What’s your story?” I ask.
Without a moment to think, Journey shakes her head. “Not tonight. I can’t. Our stories shouldn’t be shared back to back—it isn’t fair to the ones we had to watch.”
“I can’t figure you out,” I say, wishing I could decipher the different looks flashing through her eyes. It’s clear she has so much going through her mind and yet will only share a small portion.
“There’s nothing wrong with a little mystery, right?” she asks.
“A little mystery, sure, but I feel like we’re tip-toeing around the truth of our realities.”
Journey shrugs and takes a step back. “I’m fine with tip-toeing around.”
I take a step forward, refusing to give up on this conversation. “Isn’t your soul lonely?”
“Is yours?”
“Incredibly.”
Journey places her hands on her face. I wonder if she’s trying to conceal the red complexion of her cheeks. “I’m not normal, Brody. I don’t live a normal life. I don’t think the way other people do. I appear angry when I'm lost among a thought. I look lonely, probably because I spend more time daydreaming than I should, but when I’m lost inside of my head, it isn’t lonely like you might think. I have hopes, aspirations, wants, and needs—I think I just show it differently than most. My thoughts never stop, even when I’m asleep. My mind is constantly spinning, and it’s hard to stop and—”
“Just be in the moment?”
“Well, yeah.”
“There has to be something that makes your mind stop spinning?”
“There is,” she says as her eyes open wider, and she stares up at me through her dark lashes.
“So, you want to use me to stop your thoughts from racing thoughts?” It’s a joke, but it comes out sounding serious.
“You make yourself sound like some kind of drug,” she replies.
“Well, I have been told I’m an addictive person to be around.”
“You have, huh?”
I shrug. “What can I say?”
“I think you’ve said enough,” she says, pursing her lips to the side.
I’m not sure what’s happening right now, or what’s supposed to happen. I’m nervous, and it’s something I haven’t felt with anyone in a long time. I gave up on the idea of having feelings for anyone after Kristy destroyed my life. Part of me wonders what the point is if things end for no reason. It’s been the notion I’ve stood by since the day I signed the divorce papers. I’ve learned to enjoy life on my terms without needing another person to complete me, but now, I’m not sure about my reasons for choosing to be alone and possibly single forever.
“Now what?” I ask. I don’t want to make any assumptions, not with Journey.
She takes a couple of steps back, continuing this waltz we’ve been dancing to in the kitchen. I’m not sure if she has an answer to my question or makes decisions based on whatever thoughts swirl around in her mind at the moment, but I’d love to know what she’s thinking. “Maybe we should go out for dinner first, you know—before things get out of control.”
“Out of control? I asked you to go out to dinner last night. Doesn’t that count for anything?” I swear she wants me to beg. I can see it all over her face. Journey likes to have control, and she will do whatever it takes to have it. “I hear your invitation, but with that said, I take it you're busy every day for the next two weeks, right?”
She smiles at this question. Of course, she smiles. Journey loves the chase.
“I’m not busy every night. I wasn’t busy tonight.”
