Learning to Live Again (A Josh Ramsay Fan fiction)

Chapter Seven:

I blinked back the tears, yet again, cursing myself for being so weak.  ‘It’s been 8 months, Jordan, you have to move on, he would not want you to keep living in the past.’

I focused on pulling up the MAP APP, asked Josh for the address again and typed it in.  Within seconds, we had the directions and were on our way.  To break the awkward silence that followed, I said, “I am horrible at driving and looking at my phone, so can you tell me where I am going?”  I asked Josh handing him the phone, not really waiting for a response.  I kept my eyes on the road, not wanting him to see the pain on my face, and definitely, not wanting to talk about it.

“Y-Yeah of course,” he said.  I could see him out of the corner of my eye, just staring at me with a worried expression on his face.  As we drove, he asked, “It’s not my place, but are you ok?”

“Fine” I said, “just a long day, looking forward to going home.”

He did not seem to accept this response as he said, “I have had my share of pain, and I know you act fine, but I see the hurt in your eyes.  I also saw the picture on your phone.  Are you married, did he do something to you?”

“Wow, for someone who is a basic stranger, you sure want to know a lot about me.”  I tried to say this in a chipper tone, trying to mask the pain in my voice, but sometimes I just can’t cover it up.

“Well, you are driving me, if you turn out to be a serial killer; I think I deserve to know a little bit about my murderer.”  He laughed trying to lighten the mood. 

I smirked a little bit, as he said, “You don’t have to say anything, but I have been told that I am a good listener.  Besides, you helped me today, maybe I can try and help you, at least put a smile on your beautiful face.”

“Still trying to flirt,” I said, forcing a smile.

“Who wouldn’t want to flirt with you?  But you definitely make it challenging and I kind of like that I have to work for it!” He winked.

I thought for a minute, trying to hold back the tears.  I have not talked to anyone besides family.  And every time I talk to them, I can barley hold it together, so I had pretty much stopped talking to them about him at all.  ‘Maybe, talking to a stranger would not be so bad, I mean isn’t that what therapy is?  What is the worse that could happen?  I drop him off and never see him again – that is what is going to happen anyway, so it is not as if I am embarrassing myself - too much anyway.  I don’t even know this guy, but maybe he will be honest with me instead of continually saying ‘it will get better’, maybe he will say something that helps.’  After 8 months, each day continues to be a struggle, I wake up almost every day wishing it were already over, wishing my heart didn’t keep breaking over and over again.  Wishing I could forget everything that has happened and start a new life, new identity, or just do something to stop the pain....

I sighed as I decided against it, besides, I just didn’t want to talk about it.  “Don’t worry about it, you don’t want or even need to know.” I finally said.

“If I didn’t want to know, I would not have asked.  Listen, I have known you for a total of what, not even an hour?  And I’ve seen a glimpse of a happy beautiful woman, but just as fast as I see that side, it clouds over and the smile becomes forced.  I don’t think anyone should be in that type of pain, especially when the offer of help is there.  I think no matter who you are, it takes more strength to use the help then to hide away in your own world.”

“I am telling you, you don’t want or need my baggage,” I said in a sad, quiet voice.  “Let’s just get you to your destination.  Which way am I going now?”

“I will tell you when you share your story,” he said in an assertive yet caring tone of voice, and it actually sounded like he cared. 

“Jesus Christ you are stubborn.  I thought you said I didn’t have to say anything.  So JUST DROP IT!”

“No, I changed my mind; I think you need to share.  Even though you don’t think I am who I say I am, you probably know that ‘Josh Ramsay’” he said with air quotes, “has had his share of issues, and what I have learned during my times of pain is that when someone is offering to help, no matter who they are, they would not offer unless they meant it.  I would consider it my good deed of the day to be able to at least listen to your story.  Talking about it does help.”  He tried to give me those puppy dog eyes again as well as a reassuring smile.

“Oh my God, you are not going to let this go are you?”

“No.”

“Fine, you are going to regret asking.”  I gathered all my strength, took a deep breath and said “Long story short, I was married, he died a little over 8 months ago.  I am now a FUCKING 29 YEAR OLD WIDOW!  That’s it.  HAPPY!”  I snapped, trying to blink back the tears that were threatening to spill out.