“You want to drive my Jeep?”
“I think that would be best, yes.”
“It’s a stick.”
She turned her head to look up at me and raised her eyebrows.
“I can drive a stick.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I reached into my sodden pocket and pulled out my keychain. She took the keys from my hand and clicked the fob a couple of times before opening the passenger door and pushing me inside. I looked around a bit—I’d never seen my car from this angle before. It was strange to see someone else getting into the driver’s seat and turning the key.
“What’s your address, Thomas?”
“Not going home.”
“You should go home.”
“No,” I replied.
“Where is your dad?”
“He’s home.”
“You should be with him.”
“No…it’s too soon.” I looked over to her. My eyes hurt, but I tried to keep them open anyway. “I can’t go home yet.”
She sat there and looked at me a minute and then huffed a breath through her nose.
“Do you want to come back to my place?”
I began to focus again as I realized just what she was saying, and more importantly, the fact that she was speaking to me at all. I could only nod in response, afraid any actual words would remind her that I was a jerk.
She turned her head to look out the back window as she shifted into gear and headed out of the cemetery while Shakespeare echoed through my head.
“In the course of justice, none of us should see salvation: we do pray for mercy.”
I knew what was happening as Nicole pulled me from my car and led me up to the front door of her house, but I was still in a daze. Undoubtedly, I would remember it all later with crystal clarity, but while it was happening, everything was sort of a blur.
Nicole held open the door while I stood on the porch and just watched her. She continued to watch me as she tilted her head toward the foyer.
“Are you going to come in?” she asked.
I looked down at myself.
“I’m all wet,” I said.
“Yeah, you are,” she agreed. “Come in anyway; take your shoes off here by the door.”
I did as she said, but even with my shoes and socks off, I was still dripping a bit.
“You are soaking wet,” she said. “Is that a wool sweater?”
“Um…I don’t know. Maybe?”