The crying seemed to go on for a lifetime. I was constantly aware that I should probably pull away and apologise for his damp shoulder but the warmth from his arms was so comforting. When I did finally choose to pull away, he grabbed some tissues from the car and passed them to me. I smiled weakly in response, wiping my eyes.
"You hungry?" I wasn't expecting that. I thought I'd be bombarded with a million questions or some sarcastic quip. But then, Jackson never did anything I expected.
"Yeah I suppose." I hadn't really thought about it but I realised I was incredibly hungry. I hadn't eaten since last night. He nodded and went back round to the driver's side.
We drove for a while before we came across a café place next to a service station. When we were inside, we ordered breakfast and coffee and ate in silence. I glanced at him every so often whilst we ate, waiting for a question, anything. There was nothing, hardly even a look in my direction. Nevertheless, I noticed that he looked deep in thought; maybe he just couldn't find a way to word what he wanted to say. I was staring down into my mug of coffee, somewhat hypnotised by the movement of the coffee. I must have been really tired. I didn't notice his eyes boring into me until he cleared his throat. I snapped my head up, most likely looking completely spaced out. His eyebrows scrunched together while he looked at me.
"No one usually cries like that." What? A look of confusion flashed across my face. "I mean the ones that I have to use to get what I need. When they cry, it's kind of weak, you know? Like they're hoping that somehow someone will save them and they won't have to do what I asked in the end. I guess it's kind of a sick hope. But when people cry like that, it's like they've resigned themselves to the fact that no one can save them but themselves. Or they've just given up." His eyes looked so sad.
And it suddenly struck me how true what he'd just said was. I sipped on my coffee, choosing to take my time in answering him.
"I'm sorry-"
"No, it's okay." I cut him off immediately. Why was he apologising? I guess that's what I'd kind of admired about him ever since we met, the insight he had. The way he could read what you were thinking or he knew exactly what you felt without you even saying it. That's why I could never truly believe the psychotic impression he made on me.
"I think you're right. I think I have given up." He sighed quietly.
"Look, where I work is about 10 minutes away. Why don't we go and get this over with? And then I'll take you home and walk out of your life, I promise." Without leaving me time to protest, he got up and paid for the food before gesturing for me to follow him. I went to bathroom quickly and returned to the car. Just like he told me, it took us 10 minutes to arrive at the daunting building that I assumed was his 'work'. The building was huge, modern and made of glass. I rolled my eyes. Sure, I worked at the Lux Atlantic. It was huge and slightly pretentious but I just hated buildings like this. Big monstrosities obnoxiously plonked in the middle of some wasteland and built from miserable grey brick. While I stared open-mouthed, my neck stretching upwards, Jackson was already storming through the giant glass doors. I hurried to catch up with him, my heels clacking on the hard glossy floors. The woman behind the desk regarded me slowly as Jackson gave her a nod, heading towards the elevator. I let my hair fall in front of my face, my cheeks turns an embarrassing shade of pink. I don't want to be here.
