The Mechanic

Chapter Thirty-six - "Patient Heart."

"The Mechanic"

Chapter Thirty-six

'Patient Heart.'

Demi's POV

It was half past nine, long after closing hours at the shop. And yet, there Joe and I sat, across from each other on the furniture in the lobby, simply because neither of us wanted to go home yet. He'd wrapped that old wool blanket around my shoulders, just before taking a seat in a chair across from the torn up old leather couch I sat upon. It was like a memory; like the first time we met.

"When did this start?" He asked, his eyes on the floor.

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, its rhythm caressed by the hum of the shop's heater. It brought me no comfort, but rather a pulsing beat for my breathing to follow. Wiping my eyes with the back of my wrist, I sighed, my gaze on the floor as well.

"It started . . . the day after I first . . . kissed you," I answered slowly. At this, Joseph looked up at me, causing me to do the same to him. His expression was waiting, and I knew that he wanted me to continue. "I . . . uh, was still with . . . him . . . when that happened," I cleared my throat, choking back my attempt at saying his name.

Joe nodded, listening carefully.

"I was telling Ariana about the kiss, and at some point in our conversation . . . I remembered that he and I were technically still-,"

"Yeah," Joe said, this time avoiding my saying it for his own sake.

I closed my eyes, going back to that day.

"I felt like I had cheated on him, and saying that out loud sounds so insane - which was what Ariana was telling me. But . . . at the time I just felt so . . . guilty. And so afraid that he'd find out somehow."

"Then what?" He asked, his voice low. Still, I kept my eyes closed, squeezing them tightly to hold in the tears that I knew were forming. I pushed on with my story, disclosing to Joe the root of my panic attacks in graphic detail. I told him how it came on slow, creeping up on me just before it pounced. I told him how I lied there on the bathroom floor, screaming, feeling like I was going to die even though no one was there. I told him how, just like this time, all I could hear was Wilmer's voice, taking over my thoughts, scrutinizing me, taunting me, cutting through me.

I bared to Joseph the inner workings of my soul.

And with his patient heart, he listened.

"I never wanted this to be who I am," I sighed, sniffling. I swallowed then, finally opening my eyes, wiping away whatever else had fallen from them. "I hate it," I grit my teeth.

There was a moment of complete silence. A silence filled with so many things; avoided glances, unspoken words, floating vulnerability - so much.

And yet so little.

I didn't want to look at Joe, and truthfully, that was a first. But I feared what I might've seen. I feared that he would change his mind; that he would finally realize the full extent of what he'd gotten himself into; that he would look at me with pity in his eyes; that I would be the one thing that he'd finally given up on trying to fix.

And I just knew I couldn't handle a world without him.

So I didn't look.

"Demi," he whispered, shattering the silence I was clinging to so tightly. I shook my head 'no', bringing my face down into my palms. Even so, he didn't wait for my response, and his voice came around again, in its deep, hypnotic nature. "You are . . . so much more than you see."