Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes
Page 59

“Hey,” he said, wiping away my tears. “What’s wrong?”
“What would you do if you found out your entire life was a lie?”
His face lost all expression. “What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t matter. Not anymore. I don’t want to spend any more time thinkin’ about it.”
“Are you in some kind of trouble, Rose? Tell me, maybe I can help you.”
I shook my head. “I’ve got more trouble this week than most people have in a lifetime. But it doesn’t matter, after Sunday it won’t matter.”
“What happens Sunday?”
His eyes looked so kind, like he really cared. Maybe I could tell him. I was tired of keeping this secret to myself. My eyes welled up again, to my dismay. “You’d never believe me if I told you. I can’t even tell Violet.”
“Your sister? Why can’t you tell Violet?”
“I don't want to scare or worry her.”
He put his hands on my shoulders and turned me to face him. “You won't scare me. I might be worried but I can take it. I’m good at workin’ out problems. Maybe I can help you with yours.”
I wanted to believe him. If only I could find a way out of this. I sniffed. “I’m afraid if I tell you, you won’t like me anymore.” If I told him I had visions, he’d think I was a freak, just like everyone else. Or he’d call me a liar. I didn’t like either alternative.
“No, Rose, I swear. There’s nothing you can say that will make me not like you.”
I wavered, so tempted. What was the worst that could happen? He ran screaming and never looked back. But I liked having him around; I didn’t want to lose him.
He stroked my cheek with his hand. “You don’t have to do this alone. Let me help you.” His last words were soft and soothing, like a caress.
I closed my eyes and leaned my cheek into his hand. It felt so good to be touched. I risked losing this if I told him. I might not get the opportunity again before Sunday.
“I really like you, Rose. This isn’t just physical. I like you but we can’t make this work if you won’t be honest with me.”
That made me cry harder. He only reminded me of what I would never have.
“Hey, hey. That wasn't supposed to make you cry. I thought you liked me too.”
“I do.”
“Then trust me.”
Trust was a tricky thing. Usually the person asking for the trust had to prove they were worthy to receive it. Had Joe proven himself trustworthy?
The doorbell rang.
Joe groaned his frustration. “Wait here. I’ll get it.”
I watched him jump up and walk out of the room then followed a few seconds behind. I didn't want to be in this room full of painful memories anymore.
Joe paid for our food. I went into the bathroom, disturbed to see my mascara had smeared beneath my eyes. Maybe that was why I never wore the stuff. I grabbed a washrag out of the linen closet, which reminded me of the intruder that morning. Joe must have been on the same wavelength. He stood in the partially open door and leaned against the frame.
“Why are there holes in your walls?” he asked quietly, but I knew him well enough now to hear the undercurrent of irritation.
I wet the washrag and swiped beneath my eyes. “From the intruder.”
“I thought they never got inside. I thought you said they fell out the window.”
“You ask too many questions, Joe. How come you're the one asking all the questions and never answering any?”
“Fine, try asking one.”
“Fine.” I turned to face him, leaning my hip into the edge of the counter. “I don't even know what you do. What’s your job?”
“I never tried to keep that from you. You just never asked.”
It was true. I never had. “So what is it?”
“I’m a mechanic.”
That made sense, considering how his hands and arms had been covered in grease.
“Why did you move here?”
“I needed a change.”
“Why?”
He got a sheepish look on his face. “Girlfriend issues.”
“Hilary?”
“Yeah.” He didn't say anything else.
I shot him a look of frustration. “Seriously, can’t you volunteer anything?”
He groaned, grabbing my hand, and pulled me into the kitchen. “We dated for a couple of years. Okay, we lived together at the end. But it didn't work out so not only did I move out, I moved away.” He started pulling the containers out of the bag and setting them on the table.
I got a couple of glasses out of the cabinet. “But why Henryetta? Most people want out of Henryetta, not in.”
He tilted his head to the side in a half-shrug. “There was a job here and I needed a job.”
“So why did Hilary show up?”
He stopped and rested the back of his legs against the table. The kitchen was small enough that he could grab my arm and tug me toward him. He pulled me to his chest and looked into my eyes, brushing the hair off my cheek. “I didn’t invite her here. She invited herself. She wasn’t my girlfriend at that point, although she hoped to be when she left. But I sent her away, Rose. It made me furious when she told you she was my girlfriend. I would have sent her away that night, but I tried to be courteous and I let her spend the night, in a separate room. She left the next day. You saw that.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”