Page 5 of Malaise

“You’re not normally this quiet and laid-back.”

How would he know? We’ve never spoken directly before today. It’s always been as part of a group, one that I’m usually in the process of being elbowed out of. “It’s just been a rough day.” I cram my tongue against the roof of my mouth. Not now. Don’t finally cry now.

“You’re lucky you didn’t have to wait long for me to pick you up.”

“Yeah?” I half-heartedly reply.

“Yeah. I heard there was some fatality on the main road. Guy versus bus. Messy as hell. So I thought I better get a head start because the traffic might still be shit.” I catch his head turning rapidly in my peripheral vision. “Meg? You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” My voice is hoarse, but my words are clear. I should tell him the accident was Den. After all, they were friends once. But putting voice to that sentence is hard enough to think about, let alone do. “Are we almost there?”

“About five minutes I guess.”

I nod, my forehead stuck to the window. I don’t have a thing to drink; my cash and fake ID are still at home. “Did you bring much alcohol?”

“You need something?”

“If you have any spare.” His touch startles me, the heat of his palm penetrating my jeans.

“I’ll hook you up, Meg. Don’t worry about it.”

He knows. Not about Den, but from the conviction and gentleness to his words, he knows that I didn’t come out tonight prepared for a reason; that something went down.

He cares, just like Den does.

Just like Den did.