Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
“Yeah?” I say, eager to hear her good news.
“There was a woman in the library who’s been living out of her car recently. And, she’s trying to transition out of homelessness. Her name is Justine, and she was sniffling while working at one of the terminals, and people were looking at her. It’s so hard because other patrons don’t always want the unsheltered and those less fortunate there, but it’s part of what we do. We serve the community and that includes everyone.”
Her heart is so big. “I love that about the library and you. So tell me, what did you do?”
“I gave her some tissues and asked if she needed help on the computer.”
Such a simple, practical way to help someone. “What did she need?”
“She was trying to apply for housing, and struggling with the application, so I sat down and worked with her for an hour. And she was telling me her story, and how she lost her home when she was laid off, but she had just gotten a job at a roadside diner so things are starting to look up for her a bit.” Josie lets out a long breath, filled with obvious relief, and hope. “And I was glad I was there for her.”
“You had the tools. It doesn’t always happen, but when it does, it’s great to be able to help someone in the exact way they need.”
“Exactly.” She takes a beat and sighs somewhat contentedly. “Thanks. I just needed to share. It was hard, but it was fine. The job is hard sometimes, just like yours. How was your game in Philly?”
“We won,” I say.
“And you take the train to DC tonight?”
“Yep,” I say, and the trip’s too tight to squeeze in a visit, but then I start doing the math a second time.
A few hours later, I send her a text saying I’m at your door, then I knock on it. It’s past her bedtime, but she must have her phone on since thirty seconds later, she’s swinging open the door.
She’s wearing fuzzy jammies with penguin illustrations on them, a white T-shirt that slopes off her shoulder, and her glasses. She’s never been more beautiful as she blinks, parts her lips, then flings herself at me. “You’re here? How the hell are you here?”
“You had a bad day,” I say, as if the answer’s obvious. Because really, it is. “I wanted to see if you needed another bright spot.”
She tugs my sweater, pulling me inside her warm apartment and out of the bitter cold night. “You’re my bright spot.”
I didn’t grab the last flight out of Philly to Boston for sex, but I know, too, that what she needs right now is connection. So I gather her close, hold her face, and kiss her senseless. It’s a kiss that says I’ll do whatever it takes to make her days better, to show her she’s special, to hang the moon for her.
Right now though, she doesn’t want the moon and the stars. She wants me. Josie pulls me to the bed, and our clothes vanish in seconds, then I’m inside her. Everything is right in the world for a few delirious, mind-numbing moments as we come back together, limbs tangled, breath hot and fast, skin slick with sweat. Words like miss you, need you, and love you are traded as if their store is infinite.
I suppose it is with her.
After, she curls up against me. “I needed that.”
“I could tell. I want to lift your spirits.”
“Orgasms do that. But really it’s you,” she says, then she sighs heavily as she settles into the crook of my arm. “I love my job, Wes. Even on the bad days it’s everything I want to do. But I miss you so much it hurts.”
My chest hollows out, aching in a fresh, new way. I hate that she’s hurting. That this is hard. It’s hard for me too. It’s painful not to see her like I did in San Francisco. At first, her letters seemed too happy. Too perfect. But she’s human after all, and it’s a strange relief to know she’s struggling like I am. I wish I could do something about it. But she’s doing all she can—applying for jobs in San Francisco that might start when she’s done with this assignment.
All I can do is reassure her that I’m waiting, and wanting, and loving. “You’ll be back soon,” I say, and I try to remind myself that that’s all that matters.
Especially since time keeps unwinding for us. Before the sun is even up, I’m out of there, catching a crack-of-dawn commercial flight to DC. Up in the air, I’m staring out the window, wishing we weren’t so far away. But soon, she’ll be back.
That’s what I keep telling myself.
That’s what I have to believe.
One day in mid-March, my phone rings as I’m heading to my empty bedroom for a pre-game nap. Josie’s name flashes on the phone. Weird. She doesn’t usually call me during her workday. It’s two on the East Coast.