She doesn't turn to me.Iguess she's used to me whispering words for her ears only.Insteadshe bites her lip, telling me that whatever she answers, it won'tbe the whole truth.She's not a liar, but she does rationalizehalf-truths to herself, and put enough half-truths together, andyou have total bullshit.
"Yeah, fine, why?"Hertone is meant to be light, blasé.But it rings false to me, and I'mpretty sure that I wouldn't have believed her even if I hadn't seenher bite her lip.
I don't call her out onit, though.What would I possibly say?
"You just seem… tired," Imake an attempt.
She's not surprised by mywords, and I half think she was expecting them.She swallowsanxiously though, and I think that maybe she'd been worried I'dnotice.
She fakes an ironicchuckle."I'm always tired, Sam," she murmurs.No one else at thetable is remotely interested in our conversation, all engrossed intheir own.Either way, only I know why Rory is always tired.Only Iknow about her nightmares.And it fucking kills me.Knowing I can'tprotect her from them.
Fuck that.Icanprotect her fromthem.Ididprotect her from them, in Miami.And a small part of me evenresents her a little that by breaking up with me, she took thatright from me.And the worst part is—she's the one suffering forit.Because I can handle my own suffering.It fucking sucks, but ifit's what she wants, then it's what I'll give her.But watching heryawn for the third time since we sat down fifteen minutes ago, andseeing the sorrow in her eyes… it fucking destroys me.Whatever isleft of me, anyway.
She barely picks at hergrilled cheese sandwich, maybe eats one and a half french fries.When she yawns again not another ten minutes later, this timeunable to even try to suppress it, I narrow my eyes at her.Sheblinks away from me, swallowing nervously again, or maybe it wasanother stifled yawn, who even knows anymore?
I lick my lipsunconsciously, still leaned into her, itching to say something toher, to tell her she needs to get some fucking sleep, to accuse herlying to me about how she's been doing.
But I say none of thesethings.I can't.Not in front of half of our friends.They'restarting to gain interest in our conversation just from the way I'mglaring at her, and so I turn my attention to my burger.A minutelater and everyone is talking about some bar we're going to thenight before Senior Sleep-In next Friday.
I glance at Rory's plateand notice she's barely made it on to french fry number three.Inudge her lightly with my elbow, and nod my chin at herplate.
Fucking eat.
She picks up the grilledcheese and takes a small bite, exaggerating her chewing for mybenefit.I smile, subtly nodding my approval.
That's it, babygirl,I think to myself when she takes asecond bite, bigger the first.I can call her what I want in myhead, and I do.It makes all of this the smallest bit morebearable.
We talk about some eventscoming up, including prom, which Andy, Tucker, and their girls arelooking forward to, but that's about it.To be completely honest, Idon't even want to go.But my friends would never let me out of it,and it's easier to just go along with it.It's just onenight.
Chelsea has hinted thatshe'd like to go as friends, but so far I've played dumb to hersubtly.I honestly probably won't take her either way, but it'shard to even think about her, to consider her, when I can't thinkof anything other than the possibility of taking Rory.
That is the one thing thatwould make that night not fucking suck.
But I don't know if she'sup for something like that right now.A month ago I would have saidshe was.Butthatmotherfucking bastard…
Anyway, something tells methat now she might not be open to going with me, even as a friend.She would probably see it as crossing the line of friendship eitherway, and wouldn't want to blur those lines.Andfuckam I scared to pushher.
I glance over at heragain, and am pleased as fucking pie to see that she's finishedhalf her grilled cheese and more than half of her fries.I don'tbother hiding my smile.If any of my friends notice the lift in mymood, they don't show it.Rory doesn't notice a damn thing, she'stoo fucking exhausted to function, but at least she atesomething.
I remember that Carl drovethem to lunch, and am grateful that Rory's not driving.I'd hate tostart a fight by insisting she hand her keys over toCarl.
We walk them to their carand Dave follows along.Tucker kisses Carl through the driver'swindow as I help Rory into the backseat.She gives me a curiouslook, acting like she doesn't need my help, but she practicallystumbles into the seat.I grimace.She really needs to get somemotherfucking sleep.
When there is nothing moreI can do without making a scene of one kind or another, Ireluctantly close the door and step back from Carl's A4.
I keep my eyes open whenwe pull back into the student lot.We left just after the girls,but only we got stuck at that damn red light on Branch Road, andtheir car is already parked, Carl and Tina heading up the steps andback into the building.But Rory's not with them.She wouldn't be,of course, and I scan the perimeter of the building in search ofher, but she's nowhere in sight.
There's no way she couldhave made it around the corner of the building so quickly, and Icut the engine and jump out of the car before my boys can evenunbuckle their seatbelts.I catch up to Carl and Tina at the doubledoors.
"Where's Rory?"Idemand.
Carl gives me a look,telling me she thinks I'm overreacting.But I don't give half ashit.
I raise my eyebrows,waiting with thinly veiled impatience until Carl rolls her eyes andsighs.
"Relax, Cap.She just hadto get something from her car."
I don't wait.I turn andscan the lot for her jeep.I don't know why I'm suddenly overcomewith the threat of panic.Somehow I know that Rory's story aboutgetting something from her car is bullshit.It's another one of herhalf-truths, I know it.She may have gone to her car, but I havethe terrifying, plaguing suspicion that she intends to get behindthe wheel and the girl can barely walk straight rightnow.
