A Pocket Full of Posies (Book 3)

Chapter Fifteen

"Why don't you talk to him about it?" Annabel suddenly pipes up from the kitchen counter she's christened as her seat.

"I'd rather eat my own shit," is my response.

"What?" Jamie asks as he halts his typing again.

"Not you."

"Stop pretending! We know you hear us!"

I flinch again, and Jamie catches it. Again. Why isn't the drink kicking in? Has it always worked this slowly? I lower my head to the table, and rest it on my arms.

"My parents died today," I say into the table. "Not literally today, obviously. Twelve years ago today."

I don't know what compels me to say it, but it's out there now. I don't look up to see Jamie's reaction, nor Annabel's. The sound of Jamie's typing has stopped again, and it doesn't restart. I don't think Jamie's going to say anything--hell, I'm starting to wonder if the guy has left the room--when I hear him take a breath.

"I know it feels like the last thing you want to do, but thinking about them helps," he says quietly.

He's right. That is the last thing I want to do.

"It's far more exhausting forcing yourself not to. Let yourself be sad if that's how you feel."

Jamie's voice sounds slightly muffled with my head pressed onto the table, and the guy has thrown me completely. He didn't even try to be snide. He's genuinely trying to help. Whether I'll take his advice on board or not is another thing altogether, but I appreciate how rare of a conversation this is. It must be hard for him to filter all derogatoration from what he's saying.

I lift my head back up for my eyes to meet Jamie's, but before I can say anything, Kato appears in the doorway.

"Ah, Felix. Good afternoon, darling!"

Her voice is probably the softest I've ever heard it. She popped into my bedroom a few times yesterday to ask me if I needed any food or drink, to which my response was, for the most part, a few incoherent mumbles. I thought I was doing a great job at masking my desire for the world to swallow me whole, but looking back, like hell I was. I give her an awkward, barely there smile, and she asks me if I want anything to eat. My stomach grumbles in response, which answers Kato's question on my behalf.

As Kato turns her back to shuffle through a cupboard, I shift my attention back to Jamie.

"Thanks," I say, and I hope it comes out sounding sincere.

Not that I have any plans to admit this to his face, but my brief conversation with Jamie has kind of, sort of, maybe made me feel a bit better. I can't give him all the credit because now that I'm back in my bedroom with a full stomach, the anesthetizer has kicked in, and strangely enough, not hearing a stream of screeching voices twenty-four seven does have a knack for lifting my mood.

Bar Jamie, who has one left to take, everyone has finished their exams, so the ghoul patrol are heading out tonight. It's the opening night of the city's annual summer fair, which until a few hours ago, was the last thing I wanted anything to do with. Now that I don't feel like running headfirst into a brick wall, I might even join them. All I'll be doing otherwise is haunting this house feeling sorry for myself.

By the time six o' clock rolls around, I'm sitting on the thirty-two bus with my arm stretched over the back of Carmen's seat beside me. I've not mentioned the whole family death anniversary thing to anyone beyond Jamie, and his personality transplant must still be in full force because he's not ratted me out to anyone, either. I'd even go as far to say he's being kind of nice to me.