[chapter ten]
Disclaimer: If you've heard of them, I don't own them. Everything else is mine, so no stealing, pretty please. ;-)
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~Jimmie's POV~
I can't even imagine what Shea has been through in the last few years. Just trying to follow Mrs. Waterson's conversation for a few minutes was mentally exhausting. I can't imagine how Shea does it day in and day out.
I wrap my arms around her as she silently cries into my shoulder, rocking her gently. The poor girl …
Suddenly, it falls into place.
She left Columbia when her mother became seriously ill.
She works frantically to cover costs of a nurse for when she's working.
She won't let me come here for fear of her mother's reactions.
Or mine.
Silly girl. She doesn't have to worry about that.
"What can I do, Shea?" I ask quietly as she pulls back and wipes her eyes. "What do you need?"
"I just … I don't need anything. Sometimes I just need a break … between being home and working constantly and still trying to study for school … sometimes it's just too much."
"I'd like to help. Let me help you." I say sincerely. "I can give you … "
Her head shoots up and she meets me eyes defiantly. "I don't need pity, Jimmie. Or your money, or your time. I can do this."
Whoa. Okay.
Touched a nerve.
"I didn't mean to suggest … I know you can do this, Shea. I'm just saying, I want to help you. With whatever."
"Why?" She asks shortly. "Why take pity on the poor girl at the coffee shop with the sick mother?"
"Hey!" I say, putting up my hands in mock surrender. "Why so defensive, Shea? Is it so hard to believe I want to help because I care about you?"
"You care about me." She says sarcastically. "We've been on a few dates, and suddenly you 'care' about me? What about your own perfect life? Perfect house, perfect job, perfect public image. Surely you don't need some destitute, uneducated girl messing that up."
Jesus. Where is this coming from?
We've never really even talked about my job, or my 'perfect public image'. Why does she think I'm this …
"You think I'm that shallow?" I question, suddenly irritated.
"Jimmie … "
"No, listen to me, Shea. I'm not offering out of pity. And I don't think you can't do this. I'm just saying … I want to help. With whatever. Okay?"
She's silent as she watches a car slowly drive down the street.
"I'm sorry." She whispers after a few minutes.
"I know."
"I don't know … I don't know what to do anymore."
"How about one day at a time. Tonight, let me make you dinner here while you take care of your mom. Tomorrow, we go to dinner and you tell me all the secrets you've been hiding. The day after that, maybe I'll bring you a cookie."
She turns to me and smiles a little. "Oatmeal raisin?"
I pull her to me, kissing her softly.
"What else?"