We've Still Got Time

Chapter Six: Carpool and Pinky Promises

"Did you cry?"

Mom asked me as soon as I entered our kitchen. She was cooking her specialty, Pasta Primavera and homemade garlic bread. She's half-Italian, so it's not surprising that she loves to cook and is really good at it.

I went straight to our fridge, pulling out a bottle of orange juice and drinking straight from it. "What made you think I did?" I asked after.

Mom crossed her arms on her chest and gave me a knowing look, "I barely see you cry; so when I saw it for the first time before, I never forgot how it looks like." She continued cutting the vegetables, "Even if you just cried a little or not that long, your eyes get puffy and your nose gets really red. You never changed a bit."

I sighed, gulping the remaining juice. I sat at one of the counters beside the sink and said, "Something just happened at the hospital a while ago."

Suddenly, she looked worried, "Why were you in the hospital?"

I almost rolled my eyes at the way she looks like right now, "I visited a... friend." I can't believe I addressed John as a friend.

"Which friend?" she looked a tad relieved that I didn't do something stupid that made me end up in a hospital, but she still looks a bit concerned.

"Someone I met after Dad died," I looked at her reaction when I mentioned Dad. She bit her lip to hide the small paint of sadness at the corner of her mouth. "He had a seizure and I was there. It was scary. Seeing him like that... it frightened the hell out of me."

She nodded almost to herself, her eyes fixed on the chopping board, "Is he okay now?"

I nodded, "I'm gonna' visit him again tomorrow; and probably the day after that... and then after after that."

This time a small smile formed at our almost identical face, "Is this 'he' someone special?"

"Oh gosh—Mom—what—why—what are you talking about? Gosh," I felt awkward all of a sudden.

Thinking about John as someone special in my life is really weird; given that first, John isn't really his real name; because God knows who he really is at the moment (literally), and second, I haven't heard his voice or even seen his eyes ever. And now my mother is thinking that he's someone special? Like, that special?

He's just... someone.

*

I almost forgot that Gibbs never texted me that night; until my phone rang beside me during breakfast the next morning.

It was an unfamiliar number.

I already knew who it was when I answered it, suddenly feeling a little bit excited, and hoping that Janice didn't eagerly gave him my number herself. "Hello?"

"Isabella?" Sure. It was Tony.

"Gibbs."

"Hey, sorry I didn't able to call you yesterday. I helped my roommate with this new bunk bed he bought from Ikea, and heck we just finished assembling it like, three hours ago," he explained. It's funny that his voice is almost the same in person and over the phone. "I asked Janice for your number by the way, if ever you're thinking why I'm able to reach you now," he added.

"I've been stupid not giving you my number myself," I told him, shoving a mouthful of eggs in my mouth. "I'm sorry about that."

"It's okay," he laughed on the other line. Is it because of how I sounded when I talk with my mouth full? Did he even understand what I just said? "The important thing is, I'm talking to you now."