Page 104 of Made for You
His mom’s death has hit him super hard, I said. He needs a reset.
If Cam didn’t entirely buy my simplified explanation, she didn’t let on.
I’ll take Josh on a bender the size of Texas, she promised. He’ll come back a new man.
“Are you okay staying here alone?” Eden leans on the counter as I make for the fridge. “I know you guys have had some trouble with, like...property damage? I can crash on your couch if you—”
“I’m fine! We actually just got a dog! He’s a big teddy bear, but he has a scary bark, so... What do you want? Sparkling water? Juice? I also have alcoholic options.”
“I’d take something strong,” says Eden.
There’s a low woof behind me and I turn to see Captain, awoken from his slumber. The rescue group told us he’s probably about two years old, already full grown. Huge, actually.
“Aw, hey, big guy,” says Eden, sinking to her knees as Captain investigates her. She buries her hands in the floof around his neck, and I give them smiling glances before returning to my beverage endeavors. The vermouth is running low, but there should be enough for a couple drinks.
“How about martinis?” I jiggle a little jar of olives.
“Sounds great,” says Eden, a little too enthusiastically. Either she’s forcing it, or she really likes martinis. “So...what are you up to while Josh is gone?” She scratches Captain’s head as I scoop ice into the cocktail shaker—Camila’s wedding gift to us. Captain whines, giving Eden a look of sheer adoration.
“Oh... I need to catch up on cleaning. And I might try a new recipe.” Slightly true, but not entirely. I measure in the vodka and vermouth. I’ve actually decided to watch our season of The Proposal for the very first time. Josh and I promised each other we wouldn’t, but I need it. I need to remember what he was like back then. What I was like. What we were like together. What it is I’m fighting for.
“What about you?” I say. “Weekend plans?”
“Nothing much.”
The shaker makes a racket for the next few seconds. Then I pour the drinks into two rustic mugs; Rita didn’t drink and we have yet to buy proper martini glasses. Our wedding gifts are nearly the only things in this house that are truly Josh’s and mine. It’s a patchwork life. A shaker, but no glasses. A set of towels, with a mismatched bath mat. A human and a Synth. America’s most eligible bachelor, who also hits his wife.
Only twice, I remind myself, already in a slight panic at this intrusive thought. It was only twice and it never has to happen again.
“So...” I slide the mug toward Eden, trying to give her an opening since it’s becoming more and more obvious there’s something on her mind.
“Yeah... I’m not very good at this, so I’ll just say it.”
Okay, now she’s making me nervous.
“Are you safe?” she blurts out. “You have—” She touches her eye, and I reflexively touch mine, before lowering my hand quickly.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to embarrass you,” Eden says as shame burns through me, “but—Julia...if there’s anything you want to tell me—” She stops, her eyes on me pleading.
I set my martini mug gently on the counter, trying to keep my facial expression neutral. The two awful incidents have been...well, awful. But having someone notice? It’s exponentially worse. Using all my willpower, I force my lips into a smile. It feels like throwing a thin sheet of ice over an ocean of turmoil.
“I’m fine, Eden. Thanks for your concern, but truly, I—”
“I know Josh is hurting you.” She reaches forward and touches my arm with delicate fingers. I force myself to keep still, even though her touch burns me as much as her words. I can almost feel the ice cracking.
Her voice goes intense. “You don’t have to stay. I know it’s complicated, because of you being a Synth, but I’ll help—”
“Stop,” I take a desperate step back and turn away from Eden, because tears are pooling and I don’t want my babysitter of all people to see.
Get yourself under control, Julia.
“You know, I think I need a second drink,” I say in a voice that’s too cold, too collected. Eden is silent as I pull out the vodka and vermouth again, thunking them on the counter harder than the first time, like part of me hopes they’ll explode into shards. “How about you?”
“No.” Her voice is small. Chastised. “I’m good.”
She’s quiet as I kick the fridge door closed.
“I’m sorry if I made things weird.” Eden looks miserable.