Page 41 of Severance

I nod silently.

“Hey”—he clears his throat—“what’s this about you and the grocery store?”

“Nothing.” I turn up the music.

“Come on.” His hand intercepts mine and he lowers the volume again, his fingers lingering on my knuckles longer than necessary. “I’m serious. What happened?”

I swallow past the tightness and give him the watered-down version of events. “I got sick at the store.”

“How sick?”

“Oh gosh, you’re not making this easy!” I cry out. “It’s already embarrassing.”

“Well, if you tell me what happened, I’ll stop asking.”

“I freaked out. The doctor said they were hallucinations.”

There’s a long pause.

“What did you see?” Mikah finally asks, his gaze briefly shifting to me and then to the road.

“I didn’tseeanything.” My voice drops to a whisper.

“So what was it?”

A wave of anxiety flows through me and I feel bile burning the back of my throat. “I heard it.”

“What did you hear?”

I turn my head and stare at him. The lines of his face are a lot like Dakota’s but a bit sharper. “I heard the gunshots.”

His Adam’s apple moves slowly as he swallows.

“It was stupid.” I look away, and my foot begins to tap against the floor mat. “My parents made a big deal out of nothing.”

Mikah lowers the windows, draws two cigarettes from his pocket, and hands me one. The expression on his face is a little of everything. Serious, sad, and haunted. It’s like the don’t-care mask has melted away. He’s lost a lot of weight since the last time I saw him and his cheekbones have become more pronounced. I wonder what else is different. Is he sleeping any better? Does he like his new place? Does he still work at the same shop?

Mikah motions at the cup-holder-turned-mini-storage space. “Light me up, huh?”

“Sure.” I grab the lighter. My hands are trembling along with the truck and it takes me three attempts to get his cigarette going before I light mine.

We smoke in silence with the wind and the smoke doing the tango inside the car. Nicotine owns me completely. It’s an odd, unfamiliar rush. A lot like adrenaline but more addictive. It’s relaxing. It takes the edge off. It makes all my worries seem insignificant.

“You’re getting the hang of it, aren’t ya, church girl?” Mikah lets out a small laugh when I make an attempt to blow smoke rings.

“How do you do it?” I ask, watching the shapeless puffs coming out of my mouth.

“Takes practice.” He smirks.

“You need to stop calling me church girl.”

“But I like it.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” He takes another long drag. “It’s as close as I can get to God.”

“Why do you want to get close to him? He’s a selfish asshole.” Anger drips from my words. “He took your brother, but he’s letting some murderer live.” I know we’re not supposed to talk about either of those things, but I have this strange need to voice my opinion in front of him because Dakota wasn’t just my boyfriend; he was his brother too. And pretending that he never existed bothers me. “Joseph Miller killed twenty-four people in cold blood and he has his own Wikipedia page!”

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