“You aren’t making anything weird,” he replies. “I just hate that you feel that way and there’s nothing I can do or say to make it any different. I can’t lie and tell you there’s nothing to be afraid of, because we both know that’s not true, and… and yeah. It sucks,” he finishes, leaving me thinking there was something else he was going to add and didn’t.
“It does suck. I was really hoping that I could, I don’t know, find the girl I used to be by coming here. It sounds so dumb when I say it out loud.”
“It isn’t dumb, it’s pretty normal,” Boone tells me, and I hear the turn signal clicking again through the now quiet phone line.
“Are you almost back to your hotel?” I take the time to change the subject since I was the one who steered us into deeper waters.
“Yeah, just pulled into the lot.” He sighs.
“I’m glad I caught you before you got settled. I won’t keep you.”
“Already trying to get rid of me, huh?” The background sound changes, as if I’ve been taken off speakerphone.
“No, I just don’t want to bother you.”
“I’m the one who called you, remember?” Something about the way he sounds makes me think he’s grinning.
“After I texted you.”
“Yeah, well, I needed to talk to you so I could hear your voice when I made you promise not to look at the file tonight.”
“I already decided not to look at it when I called, but I did think about it,” I admit. “I’m not sure what’s going to keep me up longer, knowing it’s down there and I could look through it at any time, or reading it and possibly spiraling all night.”
“What’s your favorite movie?” His question catches me off guard and forces me to think about something else.
“Uh…Fried Green Tomatoes?”
“You don’t sound so sure, but I don’t think I know that one. Night.” He says the last word a little louder, making me certain he isn’t speaking to me.
“I’m not surprised you don’t know it. It’s an older movie my grandma loved and the first thing I thought of. I haven’t really watched a lot of stuff I could say I liked in a while. How about you?”
“Well…” He pauses. “I don’t watch that much television either. I don’t think I’ve been to the movies in… Damn. Want to go see a movie with me tomorrow?” There’s a soft chime in the background, and I imagine him standing in a simple elevator, one broad shoulder leaning against the interior wall while he waits for the doors to open on his floor.
“Do I get to pick the film?” I question, knowing what my answer will be either way.
“That depends.”
“On what?” I don’t think my smile could get any wider. My face actually feels the strain of long unused muscles flexing.
“On what you pick.” He says it like that should be obvious.
“Let me guess, no chick flicks.” I snicker.
“Chick flicks are fine,” he answers, and I’m pretty sure I now know what kind of movies he wants me to avoid.
“You might be sorry you agreed to that,” I tease to keep things light.
“I doubt it,” he mumbles distractedly. Seconds later, I hear the sound of a heavy door snapping closed before he lets out another sigh. “I hate the smell of hotel rooms.”
“I don’t think you’re staying in the right kind of hotels then.”
“Maybe not, but this is what the federal budget allowed,” he concedes.
“Is it at least clean?”
“Yeah, it’s not bad. The clean chemical smell always makes me think they are covering something up, you know?”
“Oh yeah, one of the rooms on the second floor had this thing plugged into the wall I had to take out, it was so strong. I thought the same thing, like maybe someone was smoking in there or something.”
