“How long has it been?”
Her eyes crinkle at the corners, and a frown pulls her lips down.
“A while, Amick.”
That’s not as definite as I’d like, but alas, she doesn’t have the power to always know the time.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not. You were just sitting—”
“I said I am fine, Thayla.”
She presses her lips together tightly, and so do I. I scold myself for how harsh that sounded.
“I’m sorry for my tone.”
“It’s okay.”
We drift into a silent stare-off.
She came in here for something other than to check on me. It’s clear that I’m here, breathing, yet she isn’t budging from that seat.
“Everything feels so…heavy because you care. It’s scary when someone you care about is in trouble. Then it’s even scarier to think about the aftermath.”
That’s what that calculating look is. She’s attempting to profile my emotions.
“It’s illogical for my care for each of you to cloud my ability to think clearly and process the plan for the aftermath.”
“It’s not illogical. It’s natural to—”
“It’s not natural for me.” My fingers flex as I gather myself. That was the second time I’ve cut her off, and it’s only going to get worse. “I’d like to be alone now.”
“Amick…”
“Please.”
I place my hands on my armrest to push myself up, but she jumps from her seat faster.
“I can let myself out.”
Everything that just went wrong with that whole interaction races through my mind as she slams my door.
The glass casings around my torch lamps rattle together, and my attention zeroes in on them. I can’t decide if I’d rather get up, go after her, and apologize, or shatter each one of those haunting reminders sitting on my shelf.
I do neither.
My spine straightens as I lace my fingers together on my desk again, and I fall back into the overwhelming abyss of my thoughts.
Thayla
11
The cushion shifts beside me, making me lose my count of the spines on our bookshelves for the umpteenth time.
My eyes blink back into focus. The sun was in the sky when I started my counting. Now the stain glass windows are dark.
This…sitting around is getting to me.
