A/N: Hey guys, I know this story has been on hiatus for a while, but it's back now. We just got so busy with school and having opposite schedules, it got hard. So we decided to forgo the story until after school and now that we're both out for the summer, we can concentrate on it again! I hope you guys are still with us!
Jo's Point of View.
"Are you okay?" her voice rings in my ears and it takes me a moment to really register what she's saying to me because for the first time in God knows how long, I slept. Dreamlessly, too. And now, I'm a tad bit delirious.
Sure I slept in the bathroom. And I must admit that for a bathroom, I slept pretty well in it too, with my head propped against the dirty tile wall and my butt against the cool linoleum floor that was swarmed with ants. Okay so, it wasn't the cleanest. In fact, it was actually pretty filthy looking back at it. But it was comfortable and up until now… Well, I couldn't really complain because it's not like I had any other alternative. But now? Now I can. And the bathroom freaking sucked.
For once, my back doesn't hurt so bad and I can actually breathe when I lie down. I used to think people were lying when they said that the baby pushes on your lungs and makes it hard for you to breathe because biologically speaking, that didn't seem to correct but I think it's true now that I've seen it firsthand. Anyway, I just slept really comfortably last night and that's thanks to Amelia's husband. Come to think of it, maybe he's not as bad as I once thought. He scared the crap out of me once upon a time, back when he was kicking me out of the hospital but I'm starting to think that my first impression of him was wrong.
First impressions usually are though, and that's the bad thing about first impressions. They can either be awfully right or awfully wrong. I wonder what Amelia's first impression of me was. I assume she liked me, otherwise I wouldn't be laying on her couch and I probably wouldn't have interested her enough to tell me she'll check on my baby for free. She probably liked me right off the bat and I'll tell you freely that if she did, she'd be the first. Most people just usually look at me, see the stomach and assume I'm just another stain on society. I think maybe that's why I like Amelia. She didn't judge me right off the bat. She judged me based off the content of my character… Not based off what's underneath my sweater.
"Y-yeah," I say finally, and I have to be honest when I say that I don't really recognize my voice when it comes out. I guess I'm just used to sounding a certain way and now that I don't anymore, it caught me a little off guard. I'm used to sounding...tired, I guess. "I'm alright. Are you?"
"I don't know," she answers me and I know that I don't really know Amelia all that well but I think I know her well enough to know when she's confused or unclear about something and she definitely is right now. Her eyes are low and worrisome and when she's done looking at me, she looks over at Owen. I don't think I'm supposed to notice this, but I do. I notice that Owen won't look at her. She notices this too. "Did I... I'm sorry, did I bring you back here last night?"
This time, her tone is firm, but still confused and I think she must really not know. She really doesn't remember, does she? She doesn't remember showing up last night. She doesn't remember showing up at the gas station, banging on the door and asking me to let her in. She doesn't remember the look of disgust, mixed with love and compassion that her husband gave her. There's a piece of me that doesn't want to tell her, either.
Right now, she's clueless; hanging in that little moment suspended between innocence and ignorance and it'd be a total and complete shame to pop that bubble. I wish I could keep her there. In that place, I mean. In that place where last night isn't a memory; it just didn't happen. That place where she doesn't know that I saw her at what I assume to be her worst. That place where she doesn't know that her husband-I think his name is Owen-was outwardly mortified with her behavior. I want to keep her innocent.
But the truth is, she had nothing to do with it. Maybe, to some extent, she did but not really. She wasn't the one that extended the offer, I mean.
"Not really…," I start.
It's crazy how much different the world looks in the dark. I mean, obviously I know the road I'm walking down is the same road I walked down earlier when I was coming to my doctor's appointment and obviously I know this road is the same one I drove Amelia's car down. I know it's all the same. But it really does look different in the dark. I suppose it's not completely dark, though. The stars in the sky are pretty bright and they kind of light a nice little path for me; not to mention, the streetlights lining the parking lot help too. But it's still...dark, you know? I don't think I like the dark, now that I'm thinking about it.
Anyway, I think it's safe to say that Amelia is safe. She's going to be taken home by her husband and by the looks (and sounds) of it, it seems like he knows how to handle her when she gets like this. Actually… As I was driving her here and glancing at her through the rearview mirror… I had a thought. And I swear to God, I hate myself for thinking this way, but I did. I thought it. And I thought that maybe... Maybe Amelia has a problem.
I'm probably wrong, though. I'm probably wrong and she's probably fine and she's probably just an occasional drinker but now I can't shake that thought and even though I don't want to think that and make assumptions based off things that I'm really not sure of, but the thought is there and it's in my head and I can't get it out and I should probably just-
"Do you have a place to stay?" Interrupting my thoughts, his voice is loud and it's clear and it kind of reminds me of something you'd hear in the military. It's the kind of voice that commands respect. And it startles me.
Slowly, I turn around to face him. By now, we're standing ten, maybe twenty feet away from each other so it's not like either one of us has to shout for the other to hear. We're relatively close. If I whispered, he'd probably be able to hear it. But in a way, he kind of scares me. So I just shake my head.
"Where are you walking to? Could you use a ride... or something?" Back when I was in school, my old home economics teacher used to tell me that I had a real gift for reading people. I don't know if what she said is true, but I think he's nervous. He's stuttering and stumbling over words like he can't make them fit and I don't get it. Why's he nervous to talk to me? I'm just me. Or maybe...maybe he's just uncomfortable.
"I'm just...I'm...," it's like our nervous energy is just bouncing off of one another or something. For a split second, I think about lying to him. Lying and telling him that I'm walking back to somewhere warm with people that actually give a damn about me. But he's like Amelia. He's like her in a sense that I can't really lie to him, even if I wanted to. "The Stop 'N Go...down the street."
"That's on my way, anyway. Come on, I'll give you a ride."
"Thank you."
"He offered to take me back to the gas station," I clear my throat, just so I can continue explaining the story to Amelia. She's listening to me intently, as if I'm telling her the most intriguing story the world has ever heard. I don't know why, because it's not like it's super interesting, but she's holding onto my every word. "But once we got in the car…"
"Is someone picking you up here? I don't see a car."
"It's fine, don't worry about it," I assure him and pull up the lock so I can let myself out of the car. "Thanks for the ride."
He says nothing else to me and in a way, he seems content with my "thank you." I pull the lever to open up the car door and just as I'm stepping out, he glances in the backseat, then heaves a hard and very loud sigh. "Wait a minute. Do you have somewhere to go?" His eyes flicker to the door of the gas station and I bite my lip to silently chastise myself because I know he noticed the stupid socks holding the door open for me. It's like a lightbulb goes off in his mind, I can see it as it all comes together and a look of all-knowingness flits across his face. "How long have you been sleeping here?" he asks, his tone slightly accusatory.
"A...few days," I say and as soon as I do, my head just involuntarily hangs itself. Shame is a serious thing, you know. It kind of sits on your shoulders and wears you down. I guess it's not really a secret that I've been staying in there but still, it's not like I wanted him to know. "Just a few days."
"You know you could get in serious trouble for that, right? If the owner finds out, you're breaking a law." He pauses and his hand flies to the back of his head. I can almost see the debate going on his head: is it his problem to worry about, or is it not? I want to tell him that it's not. I want to tell him that I'm not his responsibility, but for some reason, my mouth won't open. I'll let him have this debate. He could go either way. Finally he says, "I don't know anything about you, except that Amelia, for some reason, trusts you. She doesn't go out of her way for people that often, so there must be something about you. We've got a warm house and a spare couch. I wouldn't feel right leaving you here."
Is he really offering? I...I can't. I know I can't. I'm already more indebted to Amelia than I can even wrap my mind around and… Maybe I shouldn't. It's...It's not a gas station...and...No. No, I can't. I can't. I can't go home with them. If I do, then I'll never...what if I just stay for a little? What if I just stay for the night? Just the night? I'll leave in the morning and then I'll never see them again except for whenever I pay them back in the future and...okay yeah. That's what I'll do. I'll just go stay with them for the night. Just the night. Only the night.
"Thank you," I whisper to him and find myself shutting the door again.
"He gave me this blanket and a pillow and I kind of just...I guess I just fell asleep," I finish and Amelia is still listening as if I'm going to say something else. "Your husband...he's really um...scary, by the way."
A laugh escapes Amelia's lips, and as if the sudden release of emotions triggered all of them at once, the tears in her eyes to start to show themselves more clearly. They don't fall, though. Instead, she looks at Owen with a bright, audacious little grin, and this time he's actually looking back at her, and he doesn't look at her like she's a fly that needs to be squashed. No, instead, he returns it with small smirk of his own.
I know I'm looking at them like a starstruck little child, with my mouth open and my eyes wide, but I can't help it. I've never saw anything like that before. I don't know what it is, but I know that I want that someday. Not the whole "look at me like a fly" thing, but the other thing. When I look at them...and study the look she gave him and the look he reciprocated… He thinks the sun shines out of her rear end and she thinks the same and...I want that someday. I hope someday somebody looks at me the way they just looked at each other. I think that's love. I think that's what it's supposed to look like.
When Amelia looks back at me, she's got a new confidence. This new way of looking at me, this way that forces me to shut my mouth and come out of the state of complete mesmerization that I was in. It's the kind of confidence that comes from having a good idea, I think.
Amelia's Point of View.
When Jo retold the story to me, I was grateful for the parts that she left out. I'm sure she thought she was saving me from embarrassment by not bringing them up. She had no way to know that I knew already - not because I remembered last night, but because of how many nights I've had exactly like it before. She doesn't know about how many fights Owen and I had, when he rehashed the details for me in words sharp enough to cut all my defenses into pieces.
She didn't know, of course, that I could fill in the blanks myself. I liked her more for it. I liked her for not knowing every mistake I ever made. Owen and I knew each other too well sometimes, so well that I knew he was on my side again. Maybe he always was, as he likes to tell me, but for the first time in a long time, maybe since the accident, I felt it.
I knew by his smile that he liked her too. He had wanted to help her too.
I turned back to Jo with my lingering smile, widening it as my idea grew in my head.
"You ever consider being a receptionist at a hospital?" I don't have to look at Owen to know he's still smiling, which means he's still on board. That was the perk of knowing each other too well, I guess. We didn't even need to talk about it to be on the same page.
"A receptionist?" her eyebrows wrinkled and for a moment, I thought that she was really offended but when she straightened them, I knew she wasn't. She was just confused. "I never really...N-no, I haven't," she babbled and shook her head.
"Well now that you are, what do you think about it? I know it's not the best paying job, but if you're planning to stay in Seattle for awhile, it's something. You can stay with us while you start saving up. There's an opening on the surgical floor Owen and I work at that he hasn't filled yet."
Her face brightens, and she looks like she could cry at the offer. Just as quickly as it lit up though, it fades. Her shoulders slouch and her face falls. "I would love to... I really need the money and there's not really much I could do in my...condition. But I can't. Thanks, but I can't," she shakes her head and looks away from me.
"What do you mean? Jo, we can get you the job. You don't have to worry about not getting it because you're pregnant. It's full time, so you'll get maternity leave and everything."
"It sounds great, but…," I watch her throat as it bobs when she swallows. Guilt and shame are both written on her face the way someone would write with a pen. It's a look that's not at all hard to read. "I don't know of any place that'd hire someone without an um…," she sighs. "I didn't graduate. High school, I mean. No diploma, no GED, nothing. It sounds great, but I'm not gonna get it so let's just...forget about it."
"Okay," I nod, then I stand up to pretend I'm really going to let it go. I pick up the two plates left on the counter, since Owen and Teddy already ate theirs. I heat Jo's up first, tapping my fingers on the counter while I wait. When the microwave beeps, I call to Jo from the kitchen, "Hungry?"
She raises her eyebrows as if she's genuinely surprised again, at the offer. She nods her head and stands up quickly...maybe a little too quickly. She braces her hand on her belly and regroups before walking over toward me. "Do you know anywhere else, though? Anywhere else that would hire me?" her eyes flicker down to the plate of food and she looks grateful for it. "I'm almost eighteen so I can do pretty much anything that doesn't really require a diploma...right?"
"We'll figure something out. Don't worry." To emphasize my point, I wave my hand in the air between us. I think I brushed it off too strong. I try to collect myself and re-group. "Just worry about breakfast. We'll worry about the rest later."
My mind flickers back to the incident in the hospital, to the decision I made to lie to Jo about her baby. I convinced myself I was doing the right thing because the outcome was worth the means of getting there. Watching Jo pack her single duffel bag up in tears when it bit me in the ass, I swore I would figure out something better. I would find a way to help Jo without lying to her. She was young, but she was also smart. She was about to be a mother. I would show her enough respect to tell her the truth. I swore to myself.
Now here I was, planning what lie would get Jo to the hospital tomorrow with me to stumble into an interview. Once again, I told myself I knew what was right. Once again, I'd lie to Jo to get her to do something that I wanted her to do. The worst part, the part that I hated most, was the little voice that kept telling me it was okay. You're doing it for the right reasons. She'll be thankful once she gets it. If you're going to offer her a place to stay, you get a say in this.
I didn't. I didn't get a say in it, and to make sure my brain knew that fully, I ate my breakfast silently across from her. I swallowed every word. Sometimes they got so far that my mouth opened in preparation, but Jo kept her head down while eating, so it gave me the time to close it before any sound came out.
"We have a guest bedroom," I blurt out. This one, I can tell immediately, Owen was not on the same page with me. By this point, he's sitting on the couch with Teddy with a beginner's book of american sign language, but he stops and looks right at me when he hears this. I ignore him and instead keep my gaze strictly on Jo. "It's repayment," I explain. "You might have saved my life last night."
Her mouth hangs open and for the first time, she's looking at me as if she can't actually believe the offer. Her eyebrows are raised, her mouth is slightly gaped open and her usual baby-face actually shows signs of adulthood for once. "...Amelia, I...I can't," she shakes her head. "I can't possibly. I'm just...I can't. I really can't."
"It's harder to say yes than it is to say no," I nod and pick up her empty plate for her, facing the sink and away from her as I continue. "If it was just you, I would understand. But you have a daughter, and once she's here, you're going to be making unimaginably hard choices. The only way you'll know which one is the right choice is by which one is the best one for her. If you say no Jo, where are you going from here?"
As soon as I mention the baby, her hand flies down to her stomach and she looks down at it, as if she can actually see her. Her eyes glimmer with unshed tears, her shoulders slouch, and once again, she looks like exactly what she is again: a baby. She bites her lip and I see her jaw tremble for a split second before she stops it.
"Why are you doing this?" she asks, finally looking up at me. Tears are now streaming down her cheeks but she doesn't bother to wipe them away, as if she can't even feel them. "Why? Do you stick your neck out for every pregnant teenager you run into or is it just me?" she sniffs and looks away. "I can't give you anything. I can't give her anything either, but I...I don't have anywhere to go, you're right. I don't have a job, I don't have money and I don't have a family...the only thing I've got is a baby. And I can't give you anything in return. You're being so nice to me and I really do appreciate it and I swear one day I will pay you pack for all of this but I can't take your offer. I can't keep taking things from you when I can't give you anything back, Amelia. I'm sorry."