She scanned the room, not seeing anyone. It was the same room that Doc had led her to the previous day - where they had examined her wind-ups, which were still scattered on a nearby table. It seemed as if all of that had taken place ages ago, and she could hardly believe that it hadn't even been a full day. She walked over to the table, stepping over a dirty rag and a toolbox, and picked up one of her wind-ups - this one a mouse. She touched its wire tail. Twenty-four hours ago, she'd been at home with her mother, getting ready for her job. Now her mother was dead, she had the job, and she was living in an entirely different place. She felt as if she'd aged a decade in only a few hours, and although she liked her new home, she didn't think that being there felt right.
Something clanged behind her, and she whirled around to see Silas enter the room. He hadn't noticed her yet, and she stood frozen, still holding her mouse. She sat down abruptly in a chair because standing up felt too conspicuous and busied herself with the constructed rodent. She heard him grab something off the shelf - a wrench. He turned around.
"Oh, you're awake!" said his voice in slight surprise.
She looked up at him. He looked just the same as yesterday - leather jacket, tousled dark hair. He held the wrench easily in one gloved hand, watching her earnestly. She figured he wanted her to say something in reply.
"Yeah," she said, then added reluctantly, "thank you for the tea."
He pulled over a chair next to her, twirling it around with a flick of his wrist and plopping down in it. He stared at a bookshelf across the room for a moment, as if captivated by it; then he looked at her seriously and said in a soft voice, "I'm terribly sorry. About your mother."
Eve met his gaze and lifted her shoulder in a shrug. "Thank you," she said, looking back down at the mouse. She felt the threat of tears in the back of her throat and didn't really know what else to say.
They sat in silence for a little while longer, and the lump in Eve's throat eventually dissolved. She felt awkward in Silas' presence, and the mention of her mother brought everything she'd felt the previous night back to her. She remembered, for a moment, being in the hovercar after she'd discovered her mother's body - how Silas had been there with her. She stole a glance at him and realized that he was looking intently at her wrist. A stab of shame went through her, like fire, and she straightened her back and folded her arms, cheeks turning red. She looked away.
After a moment, Silas asked, "Would you like something to eat?"
"I honestly don't think I could stomach anything," she replied, wondering what he was thinking about her wrist. He didn't seem perturbed by it. Hadn't he noticed it in the hovercar the previous evening?
He was looking at her with an apologetic look, and she glanced at him as he stood up. "I hope you feel better soon," he said automatically, growing awkward all of a sudden. "Tell me if you need anything." He started walking towards the door he had come in from.
Eve didn't want him to go. She wanted him to stay and talk with her, and she wanted him to tell her that everything was going to be okay even though she felt like it wasn't, and she wanted to decide whether he made her feel better or worse, comfortable or awkward, but she let him go.
No comments:
Post a Comment