the last several months, or if it was something more. My gut said more.
In comfortable silence, Oliver and I each poured what ended up being a poor excuse for a cup of coffee and returned to the waiting area where Effie was still off to the side on her phone, simultaneously carrying on a conversation via her headphones and punching a bunch of buttons on the screen.
Biting my tongue to not ask questions I had no business asking about his and Monroe’s relationship, I instead focused on the serious reason for why we were together in the first place. “So this is one of the kids that’s supposed to be moving to the home when you guys open the doors?”
“Yeah, JoJo,” he sighed, running troubled fingers through his dark hair. “She’s probably the one Monroe is closest to. And I know Monroe is gonna blame herself, at least partially, for not seeing this coming.”
A frown pulled down the corners of my lips as I stared down at the black molasses in my Styrofoam cup. I remembered Monroe talking about JoJo quite a bit when we used to hang out regularly. And Oliver was right, she would carry a huge portion of the guilt for what had happened. That was just Monroe.
“Don’t let her,” I blurted out, surprising both of us.
“Huh?” He cocked his head to the side and pinched his eyebrows together as if he didn’t understand the words that had come out of my mouth.
“I said don’t let her,” I repeated confidently. “When she comes back from that room, you make sure you tell her over and over again that this isn’t her fault. She is not to blame for what that girl did. No matter how much time, love, and support you offer someone — whether it be a child, a family member, a friend… a lover,” I swallowed hard, “ultimately, the decisions and choices they make are theirs and theirs alone. You can’t make someone want the life you want for them.”
He considered my words with a pensive expression, but didn’t reply immediately, so I kept talking. “And when she gets tired of you telling her it’s not her fault, tell her again. Tell her until she believes it. And even then, tell her again, in case she forgets. That woman hauls around burdens she shouldn’t, and it’s time someone helps her unload some of the weight.” My pointed gaze met his as my voice dropped. “I think that man is you, Oliver.”
His brown eyes grew wide and his chest swelled protectively under the long-sleeved thermal he wore, answering every question I had about them. “W-why do you say that?” he stammered.
Chuckling softly, I left him hanging for a moment as I stole the cup of nastiness from his hand and sauntered over to the trashcan to throw them away. Happiness filled me with the possibility that Monroe had found someone who could give her everything she needed. Everything she deserved.
“I’m pretty sure you know that answer better than I do,” I replied with a smirk when I returned, then leaned closer and dropped my voice to a whisper. “Your secret is safe with me, but you hurt her and I’ll cut your balls off myself and feed them to my sister.”
With a loud gulp, he shuffled backward, but before he could say anything, Monroe reappeared from the ICU corridor and he made a beeline for her. Encasing her small frame in his arms, I watched on as he soothed and comforted her the way she needed. Assuming her pain and troubles as his own. Like a man in love.
After a few seconds, they released each other and strode over to where I stood in the middle of the room. Monroe gave us a quick update of what she’d found out in the back, and though JoJo was far from out of the woods with the damage she’d done with the overdose, she was at least stable for the time being.
“Seth, I hate to ask you to do this, but do you think you could call Colin for me?” Monroe asked nervously, knowing how long it had been since I’d actually heard his voice. “I’ll do all the talking, but I need to let him know I’m not coming
In comfortable silence, Oliver and I each poured what ended up being a poor excuse for a cup of coffee and returned to the waiting area where Effie was still off to the side on her phone, simultaneously carrying on a conversation via her headphones and punching a bunch of buttons on the screen.
Biting my tongue to not ask questions I had no business asking about his and Monroe’s relationship, I instead focused on the serious reason for why we were together in the first place. “So this is one of the kids that’s supposed to be moving to the home when you guys open the doors?”
“Yeah, JoJo,” he sighed, running troubled fingers through his dark hair. “She’s probably the one Monroe is closest to. And I know Monroe is gonna blame herself, at least partially, for not seeing this coming.”
A frown pulled down the corners of my lips as I stared down at the black molasses in my Styrofoam cup. I remembered Monroe talking about JoJo quite a bit when we used to hang out regularly. And Oliver was right, she would carry a huge portion of the guilt for what had happened. That was just Monroe.
“Don’t let her,” I blurted out, surprising both of us.
“Huh?” He cocked his head to the side and pinched his eyebrows together as if he didn’t understand the words that had come out of my mouth.
“I said don’t let her,” I repeated confidently. “When she comes back from that room, you make sure you tell her over and over again that this isn’t her fault. She is not to blame for what that girl did. No matter how much time, love, and support you offer someone — whether it be a child, a family member, a friend… a lover,” I swallowed hard, “ultimately, the decisions and choices they make are theirs and theirs alone. You can’t make someone want the life you want for them.”
He considered my words with a pensive expression, but didn’t reply immediately, so I kept talking. “And when she gets tired of you telling her it’s not her fault, tell her again. Tell her until she believes it. And even then, tell her again, in case she forgets. That woman hauls around burdens she shouldn’t, and it’s time someone helps her unload some of the weight.” My pointed gaze met his as my voice dropped. “I think that man is you, Oliver.”
His brown eyes grew wide and his chest swelled protectively under the long-sleeved thermal he wore, answering every question I had about them. “W-why do you say that?” he stammered.
Chuckling softly, I left him hanging for a moment as I stole the cup of nastiness from his hand and sauntered over to the trashcan to throw them away. Happiness filled me with the possibility that Monroe had found someone who could give her everything she needed. Everything she deserved.
“I’m pretty sure you know that answer better than I do,” I replied with a smirk when I returned, then leaned closer and dropped my voice to a whisper. “Your secret is safe with me, but you hurt her and I’ll cut your balls off myself and feed them to my sister.”
With a loud gulp, he shuffled backward, but before he could say anything, Monroe reappeared from the ICU corridor and he made a beeline for her. Encasing her small frame in his arms, I watched on as he soothed and comforted her the way she needed. Assuming her pain and troubles as his own. Like a man in love.
After a few seconds, they released each other and strode over to where I stood in the middle of the room. Monroe gave us a quick update of what she’d found out in the back, and though JoJo was far from out of the woods with the damage she’d done with the overdose, she was at least stable for the time being.
“Seth, I hate to ask you to do this, but do you think you could call Colin for me?” Monroe asked nervously, knowing how long it had been since I’d actually heard his voice. “I’ll do all the talking, but I need to let him know I’m not coming
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