Kayla froze in the midst of repacking her bag. It wasn't that she was offended by Henry's words or assumptions - she supposed that was the sort of assumption that could be easily made. She froze because she worried about Jonas's reaction; they hadn't really talked about Lu -- or Peter -- since leaving Philadelphia. Ignoring the loss and pain seemed easier than acknowledging and talking it out. Kayla wondered how Jonas would react to such an immediate reminder of the loss of his wife and child and his still fresh widower status.
Jonas looked back at her over his shoulder, evidently not quite as inebriated as she thought. There was a seriousness to his eyes, an unspoken question that Kayla read there as We can pretend if you want.
It was tempting. It meant no worries about any of these men trying to get close to her, although truthfully all of them had kept a friendly and polite distance. But the truth of it was they didn't know how long they would be here or how long they'd have to be among these people. Even Kayla wasn't so skittish as not to realize that starting off with a lie -- among strangers who might someday become community --was a bad idea.
Kayla gave a barely imperceptible shake of her head and then said, "Oh, we're not married."
"She's not my wife," Jonas said in the same instance. Their exchange and 'discussion' had taken place in the span of a few seconds, but he'd understood her answer easily.
"I'm not his wife," Kayla tried to match her explanation to Jonas's.
"We're not married," Jonas corrected himself in stereo.
Kayla laughed a bit. "Stop talking, you're confusing things." She continued to pack up, explaining, "Jonas and I knew each other back in Philadelphia. I suppose that we're lucky that we were both still alive and found each other. He's been a really good friend to me."
"Been?" Jonas challenged. Kayla noticed that there was a bit of strain to his voice. He probably needed a good few hours of rest in a comfortable bed, not an air mattress or the back seat of the Hummer. "Know something that I don't know?"
With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, Kayla corrected herself. "Jonas *is* a good friend to me."
"Si, el mismo, una amiga buena," Jonas murmured. The slurring words and slipping into Spanish were another sign of his tiredness.
Kayla shifted her gaze from Jonas to Henry. "Is there a bed we can - well, he can -- borrow for a few hours? I think a little rest will do my stubborn patient some good. After I bind that arm up."
Henry watched Jonas and Kayla exchange meaningful looks before they explained their relationship, letting Henry know he'd put his foot in it. He's taken the protectiveness they have for each other for something more than it was. Maybe he'd wanted to be able to see them together, be able to look at them and tell himself that yes- someone had made it through all that had happened with someone they loved, because damn it, someone should have!
"Ah," was all Henry said in acknowledgement of the correction. "A bed, right. Upstairs- he can take mine." Henry made another mental request to Noah to change the bedding before they got up there. The cleaner things were, the better it would be for Jonas.
Jonas looked back at her over his shoulder, evidently not quite as inebriated as she thought. There was a seriousness to his eyes, an unspoken question that Kayla read there as We can pretend if you want.
It was tempting. It meant no worries about any of these men trying to get close to her, although truthfully all of them had kept a friendly and polite distance. But the truth of it was they didn't know how long they would be here or how long they'd have to be among these people. Even Kayla wasn't so skittish as not to realize that starting off with a lie -- among strangers who might someday become community --was a bad idea.
Kayla gave a barely imperceptible shake of her head and then said, "Oh, we're not married."
"She's not my wife," Jonas said in the same instance. Their exchange and 'discussion' had taken place in the span of a few seconds, but he'd understood her answer easily.
"I'm not his wife," Kayla tried to match her explanation to Jonas's.
"We're not married," Jonas corrected himself in stereo.
Kayla laughed a bit. "Stop talking, you're confusing things." She continued to pack up, explaining, "Jonas and I knew each other back in Philadelphia. I suppose that we're lucky that we were both still alive and found each other. He's been a really good friend to me."
"Been?" Jonas challenged. Kayla noticed that there was a bit of strain to his voice. He probably needed a good few hours of rest in a comfortable bed, not an air mattress or the back seat of the Hummer. "Know something that I don't know?"
With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, Kayla corrected herself. "Jonas *is* a good friend to me."
"Si, el mismo, una amiga buena," Jonas murmured. The slurring words and slipping into Spanish were another sign of his tiredness.
Kayla shifted her gaze from Jonas to Henry. "Is there a bed we can - well, he can -- borrow for a few hours? I think a little rest will do my stubborn patient some good. After I bind that arm up."
Reply
"Ah," was all Henry said in acknowledgement of the correction. "A bed, right. Upstairs- he can take mine." Henry made another mental request to Noah to change the bedding before they got up there. The cleaner things were, the better it would be for Jonas.
Reply
Leave a comment