Secrets
It had been a long day. It was raining down hard enough for the windows to shake with each roll of thunder. Alex Eames hated these nights. The rain chilled her to the bone, and the flash of lightning almost always produced hidden monsters in her hallway.
She tugged on the light blue blanket she was wrapped in, nuzzling herself into a coma-producing cocoon on her couch. She looked absently at her TV screen, the show falling on deaf ears. She sighed as she lost almost all interest, and the characters began to smear together. How she wished for another human being to be holding her at a time like this.
She twisted her head over the back of the couch, looking at her open bedroom door. She knew that it was there. She only got it out on nights like these… touched it and dredged up old memories that were too painful for her to recall everyday. She only did this to herself when she knew she wouldn't be interrupted.
Finally, she switched off the TV and sat back with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest. Did she want to do this herself? No one knew about her treasure trove, not even her family. Least of all Goren... It wasn't that she feared ridicule from any of them. She didn't want to be told all of the right things.
'It's all normal.' 'No one can blame you.'
She shook her brassy locks back from her face. Her hazel eyes snuck back over her shoulder and to the dark doorway. A flash of lightning made her wince as she saw a shadow.
"Geez." She whispered as she pushed herself off of the couch, and into her bedroom.
Goren knew that she hated thunderstorms. He could hear her yelp in surprise as the thunder rolled through the sky. She jumped at almost every single lightning bolt like she was being struck by it. It was almost comical to watch. He glided his car up to the curb in front of her place, bringing the slap of the windshield wipers to a stop. He sighed and groaned as the rain began to pour mercilessly against the windshield, smearing the streaks of lightning from his vision.
Finally, sensing no stop from the downpour, he turned the collar of his jacket up and grabbed the two steamy cups from his side. He pushed his door open, a waterfall of rain pouring into his face. He dashed through the puddles on the street and up the steps to her door. He ran the doorbell, pushing himself under the eave to try to escape the massive water droplets.
After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened slowly with a creak.
"Bobby?" she asked after a moment.
He hunched down from the rain and shrugged, "I thought you could use this."
Eames looked down at his hands absently. This startled him. The way she looked… so vacant… it bothered him greatly. As he stepped inside the door and shut it, he finally had a chance to look her over.
Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, tiny tendrils loose and framing the sides of her face. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, and she was sniffling. She had a throw wrapped tightly around her small frame, forbidding anything from coming in.
"You okay?"
Eames didn't answer as she leaned against the arch of her entryway.
"Eames?" he asked again.
She shook her head, snapping out of her daze, and smiled half-heartedly, "I'm fine."
He set the two cups down by his feet as he shrugged out of his wet jacket. He eyed her suspiciously as she pulled the light-blue blanket tighter around herself.
As he picked the cups up and stood, he saw the faint tear trails and the faint blush around her cheeks. He furrowed his eyebrows down at her.
"Have you been crying?"
She looked up at him, her eyes widening. But she masked her surprise with a scoff and a nod at her TV.
"Sappy movie."
He didn't believe it for a second. She never watched those types of films. Plus, he didn't hear the TV, or any other noises for that matter. He squinted his eyes at her, trying to get a read on what she was trying to hide.
"How about that coffee, huh?" she said, reaching for the cup.
He slowly extended it out to her. As she wrapped her small hand around it, their fingertips grazed each other. She tried to pull the cup toward her, but felt resistance. He watched as she stared at their hands, biting her lip. He knew she only did that when she was fighting back tears. His eyes softened, and his hand held firm.
"Eames, I don't think that you're… okay."
She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. He watched as she struggled to maintain composure, shuffling her weight from side to side.
"Eames?"
"Let it go, Bobby. You can trust me. I'm okay."
He cocked his head to the side as he slowly released the cup. She pulled it close to her chest, taking one or two steps back from him. She took in a refreshing breath, and looked up at him with a smile.
"Want to join me for some bad TV?"
He slowly blinked at her, a smile spreading across his lips.
"Sure."
She led the way into the room, curling up against the arm of her couch, snuggling the cup between her hands. As he sat, he noticed the way she kept looking over at her bedroom door. Almost a longing…
And suddenly, he understood. He knew what she was staring after in her bedroom. What was hidden under a blanket in her cedar chest? He contemplated asking her about it, but changed his mind. Even he had secrets that he didn't want to divulge to her… yet.
She glanced over at him, drawing her knees in closer to her chest. She followed his distant gaze to see him watching her bedroom door, and dropped her head down. Of course he would figure it out. She couldn't hide anything from him. He looked back over at her, his chocolate eyes melting into hers.
"So," he said as he lifted his cup to his lips, "what's on?"
And she knew he wouldn't ask. It relieved her so much, and he instantly saw her shoulders relax. She flicked on the TV and smiled at him, "I don't know."
As she scrolled through the guide, he heard a soft 'thank you' waft along the breeze of the room.
He sat back in the cushions, resting his child in his hand. He looked over at her as she took another drink.
"You know," he began, "I'm always ready and able to listen."
She looked over at him, a faint smile touching her eyes, "I know, Bobby."
And they left it at that. Each having secrets that they knew they could share at any time. But probably never would.
