Page 101 of The Romantic Agenda
Everything with Fox feels so delicate, like it could snap and fade away at any moment. One wrong move and Joy’s back to square one. She picks up her phone, planning to silence the ringer, when she sees a text from Fox.
FOX:Has work been okay?
JOY:I think so. But I don’t know if I’m strong enough to handle this.
JOY:I’m thinking of putting in my too weak notice.
Her phone rings approximately six seconds after she hit send.
“Hey, hey,” she answers, wondering if her text made him laugh.
There’s a slight static noise in the background. “Joy.”
“Where are you?”
“Driving to a worksite.”
“Is your window rolled down?”
“Yeah.” The noise stops. “I didn’t expect you to answer so soon.”
“Phone in my hand. Thumbs got eager.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Hmm.”
Even after talking for hours last night, not seeing him feels too heavy. She leans back in her chair and closes her eyes, trying to tap into the memories she has of him. How entertaining it was to be near him while he processed. How she busied herself around him like a moon orbiting a planet when he took too long. Did she have an effect on him too? Would he ever tell her?
Joy says, “My text was just a joke. I’m fine. Really. Everything is normal at work.”
In his quiet, fear grips her like a vise almost immediately. Was that the wrong thing to say? During their talks, the silences never felt like this—punctuated and prolonged. Each word working just as hard as the pauses.
Finally, he says, “Have you decided about tonight?”
“Still spinning my brain hamster wheels about it,” she jokes, but her heart isn’t in it.
“Hmm.”
It wasn’t like this before, was it? Searing, agonizing, like cauterizing a wound. No spontaneous moments. Try too hard and this tenuous lifeline between them would collapse.
“Joy?” Malcolm knocks on her door. “You busy?”
“Oh, hold on one second.” She ducks her head and says to Fox, “I gotta get back to work. If I don’t see you tonight, are we still on for Friday?”
“Of course. Whatever you want.”
Joy hangs up, filled with that strange longing again. But she turns to Malcolm, smiling anyway, and says, “What’s up?”
Much to Joy’s surprise, after work Malcolmasksher if she wants to go to Summer’s house. They’re standing by her car in the parking lot. She’s holding on to her purse strap for dear life with both hands. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
Malcolm shrugs. “She asked me to remind you.”
“Doyouwant me to go? Because, Malcolm, I—”
“Joy.” He holds up a hand to stop her. “It’s not about me. Summer really wants you to be there.”
