Chapter Thirty-Six - Ixion
God, this woman. Where has she been all my life?
My phone rings. I know who it is. Jordan has been calling all night. When I got back to my little room there were already several messages and texts. All saying the same thing. “Call. Me. Now.” In that commanding tone of voice (even in the texts).
I answer, because why not? “Yup,” I say into the phone. I’m sort of impressed at the amount of indifference I can conjure up in a single syllable. I almost feel like I’m channeling Jordan. Because right now, I do not give one flying fuck about him.
And that’s a first. In a long-ass time. Fucking Jordan has consumed my life, I realize. Ever since shit went wrong with Augustine I’ve been… dwelling.
“What the fuck is happening over there?”
“What’d ya mean?” I ask. Evangeline just found the note. And I’m obsessed with zooming in on her face, trying to reach her expression as she reads it. Jordan is blabbing on about something, but I tune him out.
She smiles. Then she looks up at me. Says, “Ix. Very nice to meet you.”
“What the fuck was that?”
“What was what?” I say automatically.
“Was that her? Talking to you?”
“What do you want? I’m fucking doing my job, man. I’m watching her right now.”
“Did she call you Ix?”
“Dude, you’re hallucinating. Why are you calling me?”
“What’s happening over there?”
“Nothin’. Why?”
“She called her therapist today. On like… a pay phone.”
“Did she?” I ask, sorta laughing about that. “Well, she broke her phone the first day she was here. Smashed the screen to bits. And even though she asked me for a new one, I didn’t get her one. What’d she say to her doctor?”
“She thanked her. And said she was meeting someone for lunch. Who the fuck was she meeting for lunch?”
“Well,” I say, turning away from the monitor. Fuckin’ woman is way too distracting. And I’m getting the impression that Jordan is feeling me out about something. Something I don’t want him to feel me out about. “That’s nice, I guess. This weird-ass treatment plan is working then, right? She left the house.”
“Where did she go?”
“Dude,” I say. “I’m not sure that’s any of your business. You’re not her doctor.”
“I’m your employer.”
I laugh. Kinda loud. “Fuck. You.”
“I know what you’re doing,” he says.
“No, I really don’t think you do. Because if you did you wouldn’t be on the phone with me right now. You’d be here, in my face, asking what the actual fuck.”
“Stay the fuck away from this woman, do you hear me?”
“Or what?”
“You’re fired. Pack your shit—“
“No,” I say. So calm. So steady. “No. She needs this, Jordan. So put your petty bullshit with me aside and do something for someone else for once.”
I hear his incredulous laugh just before I end the call and turn my ringer off.
Let him come over. I’d love to have another face-to-face with Jordan Wells.
When I look back at the monitors Evangeline is lying back down and if I look very hard I think I can still see a smile on her face.
I take out our book and read her last entry again.
I’m tired of the poems.
I’m tired of the pretty words
all dressed up to make it shine and take the trophy of first prize.
I’m tired of the dream I never dreamed,
for it wasn’t mine and no one cared if they stole
my youth, or my talent, or my soul.
I was just a number.
A diamond ring made to sing
then forsaken and left shaken.
My father sold me. Like a thing that can be sold.
I am not a thing.
He is not a king.
And I’d rather die in the dark than be told
this is my purpose in life.
Jesus. Sold? I shake my head and hope that was a metaphor for how her parents used her. Because clearly they did use her. But I can’t shake the bad feeling creeping up on me. Like something just happened but I missed it. Or something’s coming and I can’t see it.
Stop being stupid, Ixion. It’s a fucking game. And you’re both winning, so who cares? Just write your next entry and leave her the book. What she does with it after that is up to her.
I pick up the pen but just hold it over the page, unsure of what to say next.
A text dings on my phone and I almost ignore it, because all I want to do is think about the girl upstairs and what I need to tell her next.
And after I read that text, I wish I had ignored it.
Because this changes everything.