I don't know," i said. "maybe you're right, and all that stuff i think i missed is overrated. Why should i even bother? What's the point really?" he thought for a moment. "who says there has to be a point?" he asked. "or a reason. Maybe it's just something you have to do." he moved down to start bagging while i just stood there, letting this sink in. Just something you have to do. No excuse or rationale necessary. I kind of like that.
There's a kind of radar that you get, after years of being talked about and made fun of by other people. You can almost smell it when it's about to happen, can recognize instantly the sound of a hushed voice, lowered just enough to make whatever is said okay. I had only been in colby for a few weeks. But i had not forgotten.
Despite my dad's assurances i was strangely nervous my stomach tight ever since we'd hung up. Maybe deb had picked up on this and it was why she'd pretty much talked nonstop since i'd approached her and asked for a ride. I'd barely had time to explain the situation before she had launched into a dozen stories to illustrate the point that things happened but people were okay in the end.
Very quietly, i heard a voice in my ear.It said, in a weird, cheesy, right-out-of-one-of-my-mother's-novels way, "ah. Wemeet again." i turned my head, just slightly, and right there, practically on top of me, was theguy from the car dealership. He was wearing a red mountain fresh detergent t-shirt - not just fresh: mountain fresh! - it proclaimed, and was smiling at me. "oh,god," i said. "no, it's dexter.
Times like this it did seem real i was leaving, and even more that my family, and this life, would go on without me. And again i felt that emptiness rise up, but pushed it away. Still, i lingered there, in the doorway, memorizing the noise. The moment. Tucking it away out of sight, to be remembered when i needed it most.
Sitting there with them, it was almost hard to remember when i first came to perkins, so determined to remember to be a one-woman operation to the end. But that was the thing about taking help and giving it, or so i was learning; there was no such thing as really getting even. Instead, this connection, once opened, remained ongoing over time.
There were so many people, so much to navigate, and as the distance fluctuated between us his hand kept slipping, down my arm to my wrist. And maybe he was going to let go as people pressed in on all sides, but all i could think was how when nothing made sense and hadn't for ages, you just have to grab onto anything you feel sure of. So as i felt his fingers loosening around my wrist, i just wrapped my own around them, right, and held on