My fingers go to the silver staining the temples of my own hair.
What would you think of me now, Isabel?
A horn blares twice, but it's Brys's voice that brings me back to life. "Jakob?"
I accelerate away from the intersection.
Away from you.
When the crowd of pedestrians obscures you from view, I am released from your grip on my psyche, and I suck in a bolt of oxygen.
I squeeze the steering wheel with both hands to hide the way my fingers tremble.
It feels like I've passed a test of some kind.
"Jakob?" Brys's voice is soft, concerned, lacking any trace of her usual sarcasm.
"I'm not a good person, Brys," I murmur. "I never have been.”
4
A QUESTION FOR A QUESTION
BRYS
I'm not sure what just happened, but Jakob is white as a sheet, shaking, and looks shell-shocked. The phrase "looks like he saw a ghost" comes to mind; I always assumed that was an exaggerated statement, but Jakob really does look like he's seen something beyond the pale.
I don't think he's even aware of me for a moment or two.
"I'm not a good person, Brys," he says, his voice low, distant. "I never have been."
A block slides past, two. What does one say to something like that?
His fist is white-knuckled on the steering wheel, his brow furrowed.
I have a billion questions.
"Who was she?" It's the one that tumbles out.
"Someone from a past life." His eyes flick to the rearview mirror, but we're stuck in traffic, and the flow of pedestrians on the sidewalks is a surging river. Whoever she was, she's long gone.
"You look like you've seen a ghost." Again, it just sort of pops out unbidden.
He snorts at this, for some reason. "An ironic turn of phrase, considering." His speech pattern, here—his tone of voice, something indefinable about him—shifts.
Tightens.
Hardens.
Formalizes.
"I don’t know what that means," I say.
"No, I don't suppose you would. How could you? You'd have to be privy to some deep, dark, dangerous secrets if that made any sense to you."
"Another delightfully cryptic statement," I say. "But then, all I know about you is that you claim your name is Jakob, and someone named Poo is sending gaggles of killers after you, and now me simply for being seen with you, which only happened because you tried to hide behind me."
"There are several incorrect elements to that statement," he mutters.
