“I will.” Jude to the rescue. Fucking Jude.
I want to tell him to shove his patient, white knight attitude up his ass. It doesn’t impress me. It just makes me want to scream, because perfect men don’t walk into support groups. I keep my mouth shut and cross my arms over my chest as if I can lock my words deep inside me. Listening is a skill I learned through group and right now I need to employ it.
“Go on.” Stephanie’s face is haughty even though she’s not looking at me. She sees his willingness as a sign that she’s doing something right. I see it as it is. He’s saved my ass from embarrassing myself.
Jude studies the cement floor and I find myself doing the same. In the polished surface, I make out the outline of my head but nothing else. No details. No expression. Just the hint of a person reflected back at me.
“I’ve been thinking about the people I’ve left behind,” he admits in a low voice. Everyone stays quiet, his tone commands our attention.
“The people you left or…” Stephanie’s unhelpful prompt trails away.
“I left. One in particular. What happens when someone gives up on you?” he asks.
No one answers. Not even Stephanie. We simply wait for him to continue.
“I gave up on her to save myself, and I keep thinking I’ll find peace with my decision.” He runs a hand over his stubbled jaw as he pauses. “But I never do. I keep coming back and waiting for someone to utter some magic, life-altering thought.”
“There’s no formula,” I interrupt without thinking. “If you’re looking for an answer to fix everything, there isn’t one.”
“Then why keep coming?”
We’re the only two people in the room now. Jude and I staring one another down.
“Habit. It’s what we’re good at, isn’t it?”
He tips his head, but he doesn’t find me clever. His blue eyes only reflect a deep sadness as they gaze into mine. An eternity passes and neither of us speaks as the air grows thick surrounding us. Finally, Stephanie starts in with a mantra, but I’m not listening. She missed the point. People like me and Jude haven’t. We know we’re searching for a prize that doesn’t exist, but that we’re really lost at sea.
In the car I turn up the music until my piece-of-shit speakers crackle. I need to drown out my thoughts and Jude’s voice. How can he still be so idealistic? I assumed he’d been doing this for a while based on his behavior at last’s weeks meeting. But no amount of mindless pop music can erase the look in his eyes. Rain mists the windshield as I turn out of the church parking lot and spot him. It’s not storming so there’s no reason to stop but somehow my car slows to match his pace.
Jude leans down and I beckon for him to get in the car. There’s no way I’m rolling my window down unless I want to spend an hour getting it back up again, but he takes his time as if considering my offer. If I was smart I’d race off and leave him behind, but my car isn’t exactly made for racing. Before I can make the call, he pops open the door and slides into my beater Honda Civic. He doesn’t belong in this car—or this world. Jude is too casual, the kind of cool that comes with years of practice.
“Sorry, I can’t roll down the window.” Why the hell am I apologizing to him? And for that matter, giving him a ride?
He runs a finger over the button. His eyes soften with concern, melting parts of me I thought were permanently frozen. “Broken?”
I nod as my throat goes dry. Smacking the steering wheel with my palm, I shake it off. “She’s seen better days, but as long as she starts every morning I don’t care.”
“I could take a look.” The offer hangs in the air and I don’t know how to say yes or no. I don’t know how to say anything to Jude who irks me and fascinates me—and does a lot of other things to me that I don’t have words for.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I blurt out and immediately I wish I could swallow the question into the pit that instantly forms in my stomach.
“Would you prefer I was mean to you?”
I can’t look at him. Not that I’m hiding my shame that well. My cheeks burn with it. For a moment I seriously consider driving into a tree to avoid ever having to face him again. “I just meant that you weren’t nice to me when we first met.”
“If I recall you nearly poured a cup of bad coffee on me.” And there it is: the reason that I don’t trust Jude. There was so much more to that first meeting. Even now as he laughs it off, there’s a strain. “I was nervous. You caught me off-guard”
“A confession. That makes two in one day.” I choose to believe him, because he’s not giving me any other choice.
“Something about you makes me want to confess my sins.” His voice is low, vibrating with undeniable meaning.
This time I’m the one straining to laugh it off. “It’s the name.”