Status: Brand new. Comments keep me motivated. ;)
Like The Sound Of A Smile
Two.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” she stuttered, dumbfounded.
“What am I doing here? I live here. What are you doing here?” He had now pulled his chair to her table, sitting a few mere inches from her. His lips no more than eighteen inches from hers. She pushed these thoughts from her head as she quickly closed the tab open on her laptop, afraid he would steal a peak at what she had been working on. “Are you writing? Do you want me to leave?”
“No, no. You’re fine. Uhm..” she let the sentence hang. She wanted to know everything about him and his life and what she had missed when she ran away all those years ago. “I’m just in for, you know, the funeral.” It was still hard for her to force the word out. The funeral. It was two days away, and she couldn’t even accept the fact that he was gone.
“The… funeral?” Realization slapped her in the face with the notion that he didn’t know. How could he not have known, though? They had been best friends, and he didn’t know.
“Didn’t anyone tell you?”
“No” It sounded more like a question than a statement. His ever-present grin faded as his face contorted into an expression of anxiety and concern.
“Jack, Emmet was in an accident.”
“An accident? What kind of accident?” His browns furrowed as realization hit him.
“He was driving up by North Shore. He lost control of his car. He didn’t make it.”
“Oh my God.” Tears started forming in the corners of his eyes. He made a feeble attempt to blink them away, but it was to no
avail. Three or four tears splashed down onto the table and he lowered his head, embarrassed.
“I’m so sorry, Jack.” she said. She felt as though she should hold his hand or touch his arm or hug him, but she decided against even the attempt at physical contact with him after this long.
“I just talked to him a few days ago. How? He- he was. We were going to grab beers tomorrow night. I don’t- When?” he could not form coherent thoughts.
“I know, I was the same way when I found out, too.”
“Where, uhm. Where are you staying?” he said, trying to change the subject, wiping his eyes.
“At the old inn on Woodrow. My parents don’t want me in the house. They still hate me for leaving.” Jack shook his head. They talked for what seemed like a few minutes, but when they were asked to leave, they realized it had been hours.
“Stay at my place tonight.”
“Jack, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“Lee, that inn is a total shit hole. You’re only in town for a few days, and I have a spare bedroom.” His tone was final. She sighed in defeat. After all this time, he still held control over her.
“Fine.”
“What am I doing here? I live here. What are you doing here?” He had now pulled his chair to her table, sitting a few mere inches from her. His lips no more than eighteen inches from hers. She pushed these thoughts from her head as she quickly closed the tab open on her laptop, afraid he would steal a peak at what she had been working on. “Are you writing? Do you want me to leave?”
“No, no. You’re fine. Uhm..” she let the sentence hang. She wanted to know everything about him and his life and what she had missed when she ran away all those years ago. “I’m just in for, you know, the funeral.” It was still hard for her to force the word out. The funeral. It was two days away, and she couldn’t even accept the fact that he was gone.
“The… funeral?” Realization slapped her in the face with the notion that he didn’t know. How could he not have known, though? They had been best friends, and he didn’t know.
“Didn’t anyone tell you?”
“No” It sounded more like a question than a statement. His ever-present grin faded as his face contorted into an expression of anxiety and concern.
“Jack, Emmet was in an accident.”
“An accident? What kind of accident?” His browns furrowed as realization hit him.
“He was driving up by North Shore. He lost control of his car. He didn’t make it.”
“Oh my God.” Tears started forming in the corners of his eyes. He made a feeble attempt to blink them away, but it was to no
avail. Three or four tears splashed down onto the table and he lowered his head, embarrassed.
“I’m so sorry, Jack.” she said. She felt as though she should hold his hand or touch his arm or hug him, but she decided against even the attempt at physical contact with him after this long.
“I just talked to him a few days ago. How? He- he was. We were going to grab beers tomorrow night. I don’t- When?” he could not form coherent thoughts.
“I know, I was the same way when I found out, too.”
“Where, uhm. Where are you staying?” he said, trying to change the subject, wiping his eyes.
“At the old inn on Woodrow. My parents don’t want me in the house. They still hate me for leaving.” Jack shook his head. They talked for what seemed like a few minutes, but when they were asked to leave, they realized it had been hours.
“Stay at my place tonight.”
“Jack, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“Lee, that inn is a total shit hole. You’re only in town for a few days, and I have a spare bedroom.” His tone was final. She sighed in defeat. After all this time, he still held control over her.
“Fine.”
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Thanks so much to G Money for reading and commenting and motivating me on this one. She's a life saver. Another thanks to Hipsterism for commenting. And a big hug to everyone else reading this. :)