Window Shopping(19)

“You’re supposed to be better than that.”

“Right.” He nods. “Yes.”

“You are. But you can’t be better all the time. No one can, right?”

I take the bottle he offers, but I don’t drink from it. Instead, I twist the heavy glass base of the bottle on my thigh, just grateful to have something to do with my hands. I have this uncharacteristic urge to talk, to share with this man. Maybe because I sense he needs a distraction. Or a friend. I don’t know. But it’s so easy to open my mouth and speak. I fear nothing from him, especially judgment.

“I’ve been in New York just over a month. I needed to get used to the process of things again. Using money, getting change back—even that was weird. I did a lot of sitting on benches and watching people walk their dogs. And it’s such a chaotic place, New York. There are sirens and labor strikes and traffic congestion and delayed trains. But the chaos of it really highlights the good things, you know? Like two people meeting in the park. Two people out of a million. Just connecting paths in the center of buildings and avenues and so many other humans. On purpose, they connect. It seems like it should be impossible in a place so massive. If there wasn’t all this wild commotion around them, meeting in the park might not be so beautiful.” God, I’m rambling. My hand tries to wave everything I said off, but the bottle sloshes, so I stop and search for a way to make myself sound less fanciful and ridiculous. “All I’m saying is…maybe the positive power of the bow tie only has to extend so far. Maybe it’s okay to loosen it up once in a while and let yourself feel or express some bad stuff. It’ll only make the good that much more valuable.” I sigh. “Everyone’s got some yuck.”

I’d have to be dead not to feel the way his gaze has settled on me. It’s magnetic. Even more so when he continues to consider me in thoughtful silence for stretched out moments. “Thank you. I’m going to think about that for a while. Probably a long while.” A beat passes. “What’s your bad stuff, Stella? I know we didn’t even scratch the surface the other night.”

“Mmmm.” I hum into a small sip of bourbon, the liquor burning a path down to my stomach. “We’re talking about you now, not me.”

He’s undeterred and I need to stop drinking this bourbon because his body warmth is beginning to suck me in. A few more sips and I won’t see anything wrong with laying my head on his sturdy shoulder or pressing the sides of our thighs together. “Your application said you went to high school in Pennsylvania,” he says, drawing me out of my dangerous thoughts. “Are your parents still there?”

Discomfort packs in tight below my neck. “Yes.”

“Are you going home to them for Christmas?”

“No,” I say on a forced laugh. “No, I’m not.”

He doesn’t say anything.

Seconds tick by as he waits for me to fill the silence.

And suddenly, there I am doing it. Knowing he is going to be kind and non-judgmental about this particularly messy subject makes me feel like I’m rock climbing, but at least I’ve got a sturdy harness. “My parents didn’t want me living at home after release. I stayed one night before my father drove me here.” I avoid looking at him. “I don’t blame them. They were pretty good parents, even if we never really related to each other and I took them for granted. Now…they’ve had just enough time to get back on solid ground with their friends and community after…everything. I can’t show up and disrupt their lives again. My presence alone would do that. It doesn’t matter if I’ve…”

“Changed?” He’s doing that intense concentration thing again. “Have you? Are you different than you were before?”

I take a moment to think. “In some ways, maybe. But it’s harder than people think. To just change. To stop being the kind of girl who steals her parents’ car in the middle of the night to joyride. Or spray paints her name in neon orange on the side of the town water tower. Worse things when I got older. And it’s like…the insecurities that drive someone to do those things? They don’t just erase themselves.” I roll a shoulder. “Change is hard.”

He tilts his head, prompting me to look over. “This trouble you got into…” he starts, cautiously. “You couldn’t have gotten into it alone.”

Nicole’s face materializes in my mind. She could be right there in front of me, reaching for the bottle of bourbon. Even imagining my ex-best friend here makes me feel like a fraud. Like I’m pretending to be something I’m not.

Oh, you’re having a heart-to-heart with this guy? Baring your soul? Poor little Stella.

Gut churning, I push off the table, banishing her voice with determination.

I don’t want Nicole here. There’s no room for her around the campfire.

Boundaries.

This man—my boss—he gave me a chance to fulfill a dream I never thought I’d ever have a shot at. He’s inherently good. I can’t say that about many people I’ve met in my life. Maybe I can’t even say it about anyone. And I just want to make his night slightly better after he’s given me this chance to…do something. Make a mark.

Okay, I don’t even need Nicole here to call me out on that being corny. But screw it.

“I have an idea.”