Her Melting Point

Me Without You

"Hi."

His voice, as usual, expressed nothing. She suddenly had a sharp regret that she couldn't see his face. In person, she had a minuscule chance to see behind his composed facade - or at least, she liked to think so.

He wasn't saying anything, and Jackie's old programming kicked in. She could never withstand tense silence.

"Is everything alright?" she asked. "I saw that you sent me texts. I mean, when I picked up your call, I saw that there were two messages. I knew there were some, because of notifications– but I didn't know they were from you. And I didn't read them. What's up? What is in them? Oh, I just realised I'm bombarding you with questions again, and not letting you answer. But yeah. So, what's up?"

By the end of her blabbering, her voice was getting shrieky.

"Would you like to come over tonight?" he asked.

"Oh." Jackie gave out a shaky laugh. "I thought something happened. Everything is alright, innit? Not that something is necessarily wrong; but two texts and a call, these are not your usual proceedings. Although, obviously, we haven't got any specific proceedings. Since we've only– met up twice– And the first time was an accident–" She noticed that she was blathering again, and took a calming breath. "Alexander, I'm knackered," she said firmly. "I don't feel like getting off my sofa. And I've got an early meeting tomorrow."

"OK."

Another long pause followed; and Jackie frowned. 

"Alexander?" 

She was once again going to ask if something had happened - but stopped herself. It was obviously complete rubbish, but she just couldn't shake off a feeling of some sort of nonsensical guilt.

"I could stop by your place," he finally spoke.

"My place? But the neighbours–"

She bit her tongue - but obviously not fast enough. He made no sound, but she could almost feel the change in the mood. She unconsciously clenched a fist around a handful of her blanket.

"You're right," he said in a low voice. "I'm sorry I asked. Rest. Have a good evening."

"Alexa–"

There was a beep, and Jackie lowered her phone and stared at the screen. It felt as if disgusting acid spilled behind her solar plexus. She groaned and dropped her head on the back of the sofa. Tartufo emitted his signature disgruntled 'broop.'

And then Jackie remembered and quickly swiped to open the texts.

Would you like to come visit my kitchen again?

Or I could stop by your place. Let me know what works for you.

She anxiously chewed her bottom lip, shoved her phone under the cushion, and lay down again. The cat went back to sleep.

***

On Saturday, as planned, she went shopping with Bernie. The dentist had offered to drive Jackie to the football match that Jackie was attending that morning, but she had clumsily talked her way out of it. In the light of the recent gossip, watching Alexander's game with Bernie simply didn't seem right.

He wasn't playing.

According to Oliver, that had never happened before. Apparently, since the earliest age, Alexander had been famous for never falling ill: never missing a day of school or work, never being low energy, or having any lurgy or even a dicky tummy.

Jackie spent the whole game - disastrous ninety six and a half minutes of the other team humiliating the Kestrels in every possible way - listening to Oliver's theories on what could have prevented Fergusson from showing up. Aliens and an elopement had been mentioned. Jackie kept her gob shut, and her hands tucked under her bottom - to stop herself from fidgeting and, especially, from texting him.