Page 13 of Icy Heart, Empty Chest
Before he could say anything, I murmured, “Meet at my place at seven for planning. I assume you know where I live.”
He nodded, not daring to say much more.
Marie came over with his coffee and a beatific smile. “Glad to see you’re getting along.” She winked at him, patted me on theback and then headed into the back. I could feel the sunshine emanating from her body.
“Not exactly what I’d call it,’ I muttered. I handed him the change and took in the perfect wavy hair and immaculately pressed uniform. It really wasn’t fair. How did he look pristine, when I looked half drowned and reanimated?
Maybe I should have considered some makeup. At least I’d look less splotchy. “She has a serious crush on you,” I remarked as he added sweetener.
“I couldn’t tell.” He glanced up towards the back.
“Sarcasm?” I frowned.
“Actual.” He tapped his sternum lightly. “I thought she just acted like that with everyone.”
“You’re special.” I picked up my own thermos. The door pinged again.
“Shame. She’s not my type but good to know.” He started to turn away. “It’s nice. Talking to you like an actual human being.” He had a half smile on.
A wave of emotion flared up so all I could do was nod. The door pinged and Marie came back out. He turned to leave with a wave.
“I am glad you guys are talking again.” She put her arms around my back and rested her head on my shoulder. “You said you were friends back in the day.”
I nodded, still feeling emotional.
“Can I ask what happened?”
“Not today. I’m drained.”
She nodded and let go of me. Marie was the most inherently empathetic being I’d
ever met, hated saying no to anyone and always wanted to make sure you were doing OK. It could get annoying when you were consistently pretending to be OK.
The rest of the shift passed without incident.
Part of the reason I liked this job was the formulaic nature of it. I could do a lot of it on autopilot, which freed up my brain to think about other things as my hands did the tasks.
We were eleven. Mom had died about two months before. Damien had come to my house with a board game but I was so distracted. So preoccupied by Mom that halfway through, he put down the dice and pushed the board away, and came to sit on my side with his arm around me. I collapsed into him, crying. That was the first time I remembered needing him as much as I did, how his friendship filled a hole I didn’t know I needed filled. He was just...there. No strings. No expectations.
I thought about the presentation I’d do tonight and how’d he’d be back in my place of living for the first time in almost a decade.
I punched out at six, leaving Jenna with the few stragglers. I made my walk home in almost record time. I wasn’t intentionally rushing, just had a lot of adrenaline. Wasn’t really sure what I should be feeling. Cautious optimism? My usual caustic cynicism? The resentment and rage I’d been dragging around for so long?
I had my materials spread out on my table and in the meantime I was just looking for things to do. Nervous cleaning, my dad would have called it. Calm the mind by making your surroundings neat. The dishes were hand-washed and put away. The laundry was folded instead of heaped on the chair (my normal method). The one plant I had? Watered. Shoe rack? Polished. Fridge? Cleaned out. When you can’t control anything but your own space, it should look good.
At ten of seven, a knock sounded from the door. I wordlessly let him in my space. It felt strangely intimate after all those years apart. He followed me in, stopping by the coatrack.
I gestured at the table, wordlessly. He seemed somewhat surprised. “You’ve gotten all this in less than twenty-four hours?”
“It’s easy enough with the right connections,” I noted dryly. Let’s hope after this he’ll stop underestimating me. I wish it could be a bit more dramatic, tearing a sheet off a scale 3D replica with lasers for pointing and holograms, but on my salary I have an inkjet printer and a note pad.
He ran his pale, green-tinged fingers over the map and through some of the files I had printed. Normally, my MO was more like memorize and destroy but I figured a cop likes to look at things. They tend to have evidence boards and we just can’t have that.
“We could use someone like you on the Magical Forces...” he trailed off.
I pulled out a chair, and sat down, making a disgusted face. “Ew.”
“What?” He noted my expression.
