Blue Mirth

Thawing

Ivy Lisa

How could I not have said yes?

********

"So, tell me about the party that almost killed me.", I say, chirpily, to John. We're by the food again, this time both of us are keeping our hands to ourselves. He's enjoying the red-sauce spaghetti. As for me? I'm indulging in a simple chicken burger. Nothing beats fries. John pretends not to hear me, but I know he has. He's avoiding all eye contact. I touch his hand and he finally looks at me.

"Nothing that I want to talk about right now.", he answers, curtly. I get it. "So, you'll tell me later?", I say, hopeful.

"Depends on what you want to know."

"Well, I know I got drunk. What I don't know is what I did, or said, or anything."

"You didn't say anything worth concerning yourself with."

By the look on his face, I know he's lying. I notice that he's finished his food, and after we're both done a second later, I drag him to one of the empty tables. He doesn't resist. His fingers are wrapped around mine, and I don't think I want him to let go. His touch is warm against the cold I radiate. It's soft and welcoming and perfect. We reach a table, and I sit down, gesturing for him to do the same.

"Spill.", I declare. He stares at me. For a long time. I note the fact that I'm no longer holding his hand. His hand, instead is on my knee. His big, brown eyes are boring into mine in the gentlest way possible. His jaw is tight, like he's holding something back. The bones in his neck are a little more prominent. His ears are red, as if there's angry blood in them. He's irritated. But his hands... they're kind, tender.

"I'll tell you when the day's over.", he says in a quiet voice. I don't like that voice. It scares me. it reminds me of the day someone put grease in my parking spot. It reminds me of John's scary attire. The feeling that something might be off, in the worst way possible. "Okay.", I squeak. He really doesn't want to talk about it. Which only makes my mind go faster. What if I did something to offend him?  

He gets up and holds out his hand to me. I take it, and we make our way to Savannah and Walden's table. We don't say anything to each other the whole time. It's like we weren't just eating and laughing together. It's like we didn't burn the dancefloor together moments ago. I hate it, but I stay quiet, too afraid to ruin the mood further by saying something idiotic. I perch at the edge of my seat at their table, and lean on my elbows, staring at nothing.

"What's up?", Savannah asks me, her voice low. What's with all the low voices? "Nothing.", I say, trying to sound cheerful. She doesn't look convinced. I look at her and realise that the guys are nowhere to be seen. Great. He's mad at me.

"You're disappearing again."

"Disappearing?"

"Yeah. You sometimes disappear into your own little world.", she says, and I blink. And I realise she's right. "You're right, I'm sorry.", I say, and try to snap out of it. I'll apologise to John later.

"No need to apologise. Just tell me what's wrong."

"It's nothing. I think John's mad at me."

"Why do you think so?"

"I asked him what happened at the party the weekend I got sick, and he went all white and serious and I don't think he wants to talk to me anymore.", I confess. Savannah looks unfazed. "He'll come around, Ivy. I think he's behaving this way because it was a really hard time for him. He's going to come around.", she says. Really hard time for him...

"Huh? Why would it be a hard time for him?"

Savannah looks into her lap and bites her cheek. It looks like she gave away something she wasn't supposed to. Before I can ask, she replies, "We missed you, Ivy. Him more than anyone else. I was confused in the beginning too, but then I realised that after his breakup, you were the only one who was there for him. And John's the type of guy that gets attached to people too fast. My guess is, he's attached to you."