“I’m not thirsty.”
I’m not, either, but I drink the rest of the apple juice straight from the container as a preventive measure, because I feel like I’m about to be parched with him standing in my apartment like this. Just his presence here is enough to make my throat run dry.
It’s different when we’re at work. There are other people around to keep my mind from moving in the direction it’s moving right now.
But when it’s just the two of us alone in my apartment, all I can think about is our proximity to one another and how many heartbeats will pass in the time it takes him to close the gap and kiss me.
I set the empty container of apple juice on the bar and wipe my mouth.
“Is that why you always taste like apples?”
I look right at him when he says that. It’s an intimate thing to say. Admitting out loud that you know what someone else tastes like. I feel like a dazzled, inexperienced teenager under his gaze, so I look down at my feet because not looking at him is less draining.
“What do you want, Ledger?”
He calmly leans against the counter. We’re just a couple of feet apart when he says, “I want to get to know you better.”
I wasn’t expecting him to say that, so of course I look over at him and then immediately regret it because he’s standing so close to me. “What do you want to know?”
“More about you. Your likes, your dislikes, your goals. What do you want to do with your life?”
I can’t help but laugh. I expected him to ask about Scotty, or something related to Diem, or my current situation. But he’s just making casual conversation, and I have no idea what to do with it. “I’ve always wanted to be a locksmith.”
That makes Ledger laugh. “A locksmith?”
I nod.
“Why a locksmith?”
“Because no one can be mad at a locksmith. They show up to help when people are in a crisis. I think it would be a rewarding job to make people’s shitty days a little bit better.”
Ledger nods appreciatively. “I can’t say I’ve ever met anyone who wanted to be a locksmith.”
“Well. Now you have. Next question.”
“Why did you choose the name Diem?”
I turn his question around on him before answering it. “Why did the Landrys choose not to change the name I gave her?”
He works his jaw back and forth. “They were worried that maybe you and Scotty had discussed what to name her, and Diem was a name Scotty chose.”
“Scotty never even knew I was pregnant.”
“Did you know you were pregnant?” he asks. “Before Scotty died?”
I shake my head. My voice is a whisper when I say, “No. I never would have pleaded guilty if I knew I was pregnant with Diem.”
He concentrates on that reply. “Why did you plead guilty?”
I hug myself. My eyes start to sting, so I take a moment to breathe through the memory before answering him. “I wasn’t in a good headspace,” I admit. I don’t elaborate, though. I can’t.
Ledger doesn’t come back with another question right away. He lets silence fill the room, and then he empties it by saying, “Where would we be right now if I didn’t know Scotty?”
“What do you mean?”
His eyes fall briefly to my mouth. It’s a flicker of a gaze, but I see it. I feel it. “The night we met at the bar. You said you didn’t know who I was. What if I was just some random guy who didn’t know Diem or Scotty or you? What do you think would have happened between us that night?”
“A lot more than what did happen,” I admit.
He rolls his throat as if he swallowed that answer. He stares at me and I stare back, waiting anxiously for his next question or thought or move.
“I sometimes wonder if we’d even be talking right now if I didn’t know Diem.”
“Why does it matter?” I ask.
“Because it would be the difference between you wanting to be with me for me, or wanting to be with me so you could use me for my connections.”
My jaw tenses. I have to break our gaze and look at something besides him, because that comment makes me angry. “If I wanted to use you for your connections, I’d have fucked you by now.” I push off the counter. “You should go.” I start to walk toward the door, but Ledger grabs my wrist and pulls me back.
I spin around, but before I can yell at him, I see the look in his eye. It’s apologetic. Sad. He pulls me to his chest and wraps his arms around me in a comforting embrace. I’m stiff against him, unsure of what to do with my lingering anger. He slides his hands to my arms and lifts them, wrapping them around his waist.