Loud Silence

Chapter Twelve

The whiff of a strong, black coffee is as good a fixing as crack is to an addict. Combine that with the setting of a small, family-owned cafe that offers free refills on a chilly day, you could sit and sip coffee from sunrise to sunset. I would take this over a franchise coffee shop any day.

Violet and I both take our sip of coffee. "Mmmm," we hum loudly at the same time, giggling at the fact that we now had neighboring patrons turning to look at us.

"So how's work been going, Jas?" she asks, as she goes in for the next sip. "We live in the same house, but I don't think I've seen you for longer than five minutes at a time."

She's absolutely right. Her boss has been making her run more errands than usual, as Violet struggles to keep up with the demands.

"Work is good. I definitely had to do some extra studying and learning to keep up with the other nurses. But they've been very pleasant with me, surprisingly," I answer her.

"There is nothing surprising about it. Our life has been so crappy growing up that we've come to assume the worst in people. But people aren't usually that bad, Jas. Especially people like Taylor."

I roll my eyes at her, but feeling a quiver in my heart at the mention of his name.

When neither of us were working, Taylor and I spent every moment together searching for Daisy. I knew Tim couldn't fly anywhere, he would have to drive, but not in either of his vehicles, both impounded by authorities. There were no hits on rentals under his name, no credit card activities. His bank accounts were frozen. He was getting the cash from somewhere—someone—to survive.

Every once in a while, we would stalk out the Walkers, hoping he was stupid enough to come back to their house. Weeks came and went, as autumn was now here, still no closer to finding her.

"Taylor is a good person," I confirm, the image of his handsome face blurring my vision for a quick second.

"Duh, Jas. Your face lights up every time he enters the room. He waits on your hands and feet when he's around. Every time you guys look at each other, it's like you're speaking telepathically. You guys sometimes finish each other's sentences. I mean, come on. It doesn't get any more nauseating than that!" She sticks her tongue out to mimic a gag.

I laugh and toss a napkin at her. "It's not like that, Vi," I say defensively.

"But it is, Jasmine," she pushes on. "Why are you trying to run from it? You shouldn't let one bad relationship corrupt the potential of a better one," she pauses to take another sip of coffee, leaning back in the glossy wooden chair to cross her legs.

"We've never meddled in each other's relationships before, and I've come to regret that. Although Tim has always said the right words, there was something crooked about him, but I never wanted to tell you, afraid that I could be wrong and mess up something perfectly good in your life," she says, as we both avoid eye contact.

"I regret it now," she continues, her last statement hesitant, obvious at the way her hands are clutched around the ceramic cup.

I extend one hand across the table, waiting for her to meet it, as she does. Clasping her hand gently, I say, "You have nothing to regret, Violet. I've known it for quite some time and still stuck around. This is not on you."

"But there's something about Taylor, Jas, that he just seems to care so much about you. I just think you should give him a chance. That's all," she pleads.

Nodding slightly, I play with a strand of her hair. When we were younger, playing with each other's hair was the only entertainment neither of us had. Now, it serves as a therapeutic measure, affirming that the other sister was in close proximity—affirming that we were stronger together.