what now? | outerbanks

• one hundred nineteen •

JJ

    Pope pulls into the driveway with the windows down. Our morning of hard work is finally complete, and thanks to the storm, the air is a little cooler than usual. Kie left straight from Heyward's after chewing my ass out one last time about the hurricane, so naturally, due to a recently-totaled truck, I was left stranded.
    I unbuckle but don't get out right away. I've been watching Cleo the whole car ride. Not once did she look away from her window. Not to change the radio or check her phone or tell some almost unbelievable story like she's always doing. I didn't believe Kie last night, but now I'm sold. Something's up.
    Pope notices me lingering. "Shut the door, or jet, J. You're letting all the hot air in."
"Huh?"
"The door," he stresses.
"Oh." I get out and shut it behind me. "Yeah."
Cleo turns in her seat and reaches forward to turn the radio off, leaving the car silent. Pope goes to shift the car into drive, but I stop him.
"Hey."
"Yeah?"
"Can you actually come look at something for me?"
He frowns. "Inside?"
"Yes," I say simply. I look him in the eyes just long enough for him to get the hint that there's something I have to say that I can't say here.
He nods. "Sure. Uh, babe, I'll be right back." He leaves the keys in the ignition but exits the car and follows me to the house.
I lead the way through the front door without turning on any lights. The house still smells faintly like wet wood from where we tracked rainwater early this morning. Kie stacked the lanterns in a neat row on the kitchen table after the power came back. My sweatshirt is still hanging over one of the chairs, soaked stiff from the storm.
Pope closes the door behind him. "What am I looking at?" he asks.
I don't answer right away. Instead I wander into the kitchen, open the refrigerator like I've got some important mission, stare at absolutely nothing, then close it again. Pope watches the whole thing.
"...You brought me in here to look inside your fridge?"
"No."
"Good."
I lean against the counter. "You think Cleo's acting weird?"
He doesn't answer. He scratches the back of his neck and looks toward the hallway instead of at me. That's answer enough.
"I don't know."
"Bullshit."
He sighs. "I said I don't know."
"You noticed it too. You live with her. I know you noticed it."
"...Maybe."
I point toward the front window where Cleo's silhouette is barely visible through the windshield, still sitting exactly where we left her. Hands folded in her lap, looking out toward the street instead of the house.
"She hasn't stopped staring out that window since we left Heyward's."
"She's tired."
"We're all tired, Pope."
He rubs both hands over his face. "J..."
"No, seriously." I push off the counter. "Kie said something last night and I told her she was imagining it, but... I don't know."
"What'd she say?"
"That Cleo was acting off."
His shoulders drop. "I figured it was just... everything."
"The storm?"
"The storm. Work. The truck." He swallows. "Everything."
I nod once. "I don't know." I shake my head. "She's literally been held at gunpoint and I've never seen her like this."
Pope finally looks at me. "I asked her three times last night if she was okay."
"And?"
"And she said she was tired."
"You believe her?"
His silence stretches long enough that I already know. "I want to." He lets out a slow breath. "I just... don't know what else to do. She's tough as nails, like, ninety-nine percent of the time. I don't know what could've made her like this."
For this first time in a long time I hear something different in Pope's voice; helplessness. Pope almost always has a plan. We used to bully him for it when we were still in school. Even when he doesn't, he usually pretends he does. Right now, he just looks lost.
"I hate pushing her," he says quietly. "Every time I ask, she rolls her eyes and tells me she's okay." He laughs once without humor. "Then she changes the subject."
I nod. Outside, I hear a gull screaming somewhere over the marsh.
"Kie thinks it has to do with the man's tattoo," I say honestly. "She was asking questions like... like she recognized something about it."
    Pope's eyebrows pull together. "The tattoo?"
    "Yeah." I nod slowly, trying to remember exactly how Kie described it.
    "She was almost desperate to know what the tattoo looked like."
    "I thought she was just trying to figure out who the guy was."
    "I've never seen her scared," I admit.
    Pope's jaw flexes. "I have."
    "When?"
    He stares at the floor for a long second before answering. "The first few weeks after she got here. There were nights she'd wake up swinging before she even knew where she was." He laughs quietly to himself. "One time she nearly broke my nose because I tried waking her up for breakfast."
    I smile despite myself.
    "She apologized for like three days." His smile falls. "But that stopped."
    "When?"
    "Months ago."
    "So whatever this is is definitely new."
    The words hang between us. I cross my arms.
    "Kie thinks she knows something. About the tattoo, or the man, or something she isn't telling us."
    "Knows the man?"
    I shrug. "It's possible."
    "JJ, she's not even an American citizen yet, trust she doesn't know some random creep in Outer Banks. At least not well enough to recognize him from you guys's shitty description of his tattoo."
    I groan. "That's what I'm saying. He's not random."
    "Look, if she's keeping something to herself, there's probably a reason," he sighs. "The last thing she'd want is all of us cornering her like she's some interrogation suspect."
    "Fine."
    "But..." He points toward the driveway. "I'll talk to her tonight."
    "You gonna tell her we noticed?"
    "I'm gonna tell her I noticed."
    I nod. "Good."
    My phone buzzes against the countertop.