31. ~ James ~
CHAPTER 31
~ James ~
“C an’t. I have a night class,” I said regretfully into the phone. “You’re feeling better?”
Char had invited me to an evening concert in Prince’s Island Park. Which was nice, seeing as she’d been busy and distant since our questioning by the police. She’d even bailed out of going to our first baseball practice, claiming she had a sore throat.
“Night class?” she asked, her voice lifting, ignoring my question.
Was it my imagination, or did she sound a bit happy that I couldn’t go? It felt like her asking me out was a test, and I’d just passed it. Which was wrong. So very wrong.
“Since when?” she asked. “For what?” Her interest was piqued. I was right about her. Curious. Always up for something new.
Too bad she didn’t seem to want to jump into something new with yours truly. She kept dipping a toe, but it was like the water was too cold for her. It was starting to get really frustrating. I wanted to drag her off somewhere private where we could be alone, and love her until she saw that what we might have wasn’t a reason to be afraid.
“I’m taking some geography and mapping courses online. Signed up and started this week.”
“Oh.”
“Seemed like a good time.”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was soft with apology.
“I was planning to quit anyway.”
“But you just spent all that money on the Corsica trip.”
“It’s fine.” And it actually was. I had some savings. I wasn’t going to miss the security work, especially now that I didn’t need the museum as my wingman, making it possible to bump into Char.
I could call her.
Text her.
Probably even pop by. Especially if I had a strawberry milkshake from Peter’s.
Although maybe I wasn’t welcome. She was giving off weird signals. Did she blame me for the warehouse seizure? Or was she just generally down and out at the moment, the wind knocked out of her sails, and one of those types that curled inward when stuff hit the fan?
“Are you looking to become a cartographer?” she asked.
“It might be fun.”
She let out a surprised burst of laughter, and it felt good to knock her perception of me.
“Yeah?” she asked.
“What?”
“You take classes for fun, don’t you?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.”
“What?”
“I can hear you thinking.” The same as everyone else. “I need a career. I should know what to do with my life by now and finish the things I start. Make up my mind already. I’m wasting time, money and talent. And for what? Don’t I know who am I? Do I have ADHD or what?”
Personally, I preferred my parents’ take. They’d said I had a wild streak of curiosity and had a hunger for knowledge.
My grade six teacher had explained it as having ants in my pants.
I stopped talking, realizing I’d basically confessed some of my worst fears about myself to Char.
“People think I’m a flake because I like temping,” Char said quietly. “Because I like being somewhere new every few weeks.”
We were silent for a long moment, as though deciding what to do with each other.
The lightness of our usual conversations wasn’t with us tonight, but I didn’t mind. I felt as though I was letting Char in and vice versa, like the barrier of talking without seeing each other freed us somehow.
“My parents…” Char said hesitantly, and I tightened my grip on my phone so I didn’t accidentally drop it and miss whatever she was about to say. “They never really…I don’t know. Lived. Especially my dad.”
I stood, unable to sit. I paced the room.
“My mom was pretty checked out when I was a preteen. She’d only cook if Dad was home. The rest of the time she just sat in front of the TV until she met Damon.”
“Who’s that?”
“Stepdad.”
“They weren’t happy together? Your mom and dad?” I imagined fighting, yelling matches, tearing up a young, sensitive Char.
“I guess not. Mom left. And it was so weird. She was suddenly all alive and happy and being a mom.”
“That’s good then?”
“To Brynnie, my stepsister.” Her voice was low and I couldn’t quite pinpoint the emotion she was trying to hide. Hurt? Resentment? Anger? Rejection? So many emotions to choose from.
“How old was she—is she?”
“My age.”
Ouch.
“You didn’t live with them?”
“No. You know what’s dumb? When my mom was in that funk before she left, sometimes I’d tell her about my school adventures. Gym class shenanigans or fights or field trip stuff and she’d half perk up.”
I waited quietly for her to say more. I could almost hear the unasked question in Char’s words. Was she still doing that? Looking for adventures and excitement to show others so they would take an interest in her? If so, was she stuck on a never-ending treadmill, hoping to find self-worth?
She was quiet for a moment, and when she resumed, she was upbeat. “I don’t really like sitting around a ton. I need to move and do something. But at the same time, I love cozying up in the living room with my friends. Why is that? Samantha said temping isn’t me, and since then it hasn’t felt as much fun. I don’t know if I let her words become a self-fulfilling prophecy, or if she just gave me permission to see how exhausting it actually can be.” She released a self-depreciating laugh. “Maybe it’s me who doesn’t know who they are.”
“Do any of us truly know? We’re always changing. Even our cells. They get replaced at such a rate that we’re physically someone new within a few months. It’s hard to keep up with that.”
“I like that image,” she said softly.
“And I like talking to you on the phone. And in person, too.” I worried my intention wasn’t coming across right. “I’m glad we’re talking. I don’t talk on the phone much.”
“Same. It’s nice.”
“So you’re an adventure addict?” I teased, getting the feeling that she was done her mini confessional.
“Apparently,” she said dryly.
“If money were no object, and you’d already been to Greece, where would you go?” I knew her more lucrative jobs had been dialled back by her boss, thanks to the museum theft business, and what money she did have would be flowing into the park once the warehouse was released.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t want to visit more museums?” I asked. “Fly to a remote island in the Pacific? Soak up the ambiance of a famous old hotel that costs thousands of dollars a night? You don’t want to find a private waterfall in the mountains? Skydive? Learn to sail on Glenmore?”
She laughed, the sound light. “Okay, okay. There’s so much to do!”
I was smiling. Grinning like a fool, actually. “You going to do it? Go on a mini adventure?”
“Every day is an adventure, James,” she intoned seriously.
“Wanna go on an adventure with me?”
“Always,” she said quickly, without hesitation. And for a moment, I thought maybe her heart, along with mine, was wishing, wishing—wishing that we could be each other’s wingman, friend, lover, everything. We just needed to have the courage to keep trying.