I laugh. “I think you did that a time or twelve.”
He chuckles too. “I did for sure.”
We watch each other. We’re sitting just a few feet away, and it feels both like millions of miles and only a few inches.
“I have a lot of time on my hands these days,” he admits. “It’s an interesting position to be in. I have all of this dead time with nothing to do but sit and think about the moment in which I have more time. It’s quite a predicament.”
“I’ve never thought of it like that.”
“I hadn’t either.” He picks up another piece of candy and holds it in his palm. “I’ve thought about every piece of my life, replayed every day.”
“I do that every night,” I say in an ill attempt at a joke.
Joseph lets it go without acknowledging it. I get the feeling he’s not gotten to the point he’s trying to make, so I sit back and let him talk.
“Life is made up of a web of experiences and emotions. They are the only two things we have in life no matter who you are, where you live, or what you do. You’re going to experience things, and you’re going to feel things.”
I mull that over. It seems true. I’ve never thought of life like that, but I’m not sitting around pondering life’s greatest mysteries either.
Joseph shifts in his chair, wincing as he moves to face me. He looks me in the eyes.
“The key to life—the key to everything—is who you choose to build your web around,” he says, his voice eerily calm. “I built so much of mine around my job. I have so many experiences and emotions from my days at the bank. Some were good. Some were bad. Some were amazing moments in life that I’m better for having. But Coy …” He sets the candy down on the table. “I’d give anything to trade some of those things for more memories with Bellamy.”
The sincerity in his tone strangles me.
I press my lips together and look at the floor, the weight of his words settling on my heart.
The reality that he’s painting for me is not hard to imagine. Although I’ve never thought of it exactly as he’s describing it, I’ve experienced it. I’ve danced around the concept while in a random hotel in an equally random city while Holt FaceTimes me from the golf course with Gramps or Larissa texts me while at dinner with Boone and Bells.
The difference is that Joseph might have been building his web, so to speak, because he was running away from his life. I’m trying to run toward mine. Surely, that’s different.
“I sit here some days,” he says quietly, “and wonder what my legacy will be like when I’m gone.”
My eyes snap to his. “You’re not gone yet, Joe.”
“I know that. But I’m going to be. I tried being positive by pretending this was all going to work out. There comes a time, though, when you just have to admit the truth to yourself. It’s freeing after that. After about a week, you can move on and try to control the things you can.”
I don’t know why he’s telling me all of this. Perhaps it’s because he can’t talk to Bellamy this truthfully. Maybe his friends have stopped coming by. And it might just be that I’m safe because he knows I’ll be leaving and taking his secrets with me.
Whatever the case, it’s still hard to listen to.
“We’re very different,” he tells me. “But we’re a lot the same, too. You work hard. You worry about your legacy.”
Do I?
He smiles. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be on the television and radio all the time.”
Fair enough.
“Promise me something, Coy.”
“Okay.”
“Do you remember the promise you made to me right after Shelley died?”
I nod. “I promised you that I’d make sure Bellamy was okay.”
He grins, relief filtering across his tired face. “That’s right. I remember you being all serious and standing next to my desk in the den. You said, ‘Mr. Davenport, Bells will be all right. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll keep my eye on her.’” He chuckles. “You were such a little man.”
I grin, my face heating at the memory.
“I hope you’ll honor that when I’m gone,” he says, his voice cracking on the last syllable.
He blinks rapidly as he obviously struggles with a burst of emotion.
My chest swells, making it hard to breathe as I watch him try to regain his composure. I wish there was something to say, something to do, to make this go away for him. No one should have to sit day after day and mentally torture themselves like this.
Fuck.
Finally, after a minute or two, Joseph steadies himself and looks at me. His eyes fill with a seriousness that erases anything in my mind other than this moment.