“i’m not in any hurry. on the contrary.” joey ❤️
she doesn't expect to see joey when she goes to answer the door after a soft knock—she's never known joey to do much softly except in certain circumstances. but there joey is, crooked smile, draped on the door jamb with one arm up like james dean. it makes eddie smile. joey's dressed like she was out, or meant to go out. she looks good. so good it almost hurts. she should go have a good time. it's a nice night. just because eddie has to stay in and watch the baby doesn't mean joey can't go out. she'd told her that after kissing her goodbye this morning. still—she’s too glad joey’s here to send her off again.
eddie puts a finger to her lips, eyes dancing, and slips her hand into joey's, "shh. baby's sleeping." she pulls them both inside, back into the matchbox kitchen where she's finishing up the dishes. her boss, the woman responsible for both the trailer and the baby, doesn't ask eddie to do things like that but eddie doesn't mind. she likes washing dishes. she likes washing dishes with joey leaning on the counter watching her. when she's finished she grabs the baby monitor and two bottles out of the fridge and takes joey's hand again.
it's a nice trailer in a nice park, and danielle, who had given eddie a job at her bar in town and a room, keeps the yard real nice. the little shotgun patch of grass between two units is meticulously mowed, green and bright, and the porch is crowded by big hydrangea bushes with armloads of powder blue flowers so heavy they nod on their woody stems. danielle just finished having a flagstone path and patio put in. it's where she has her coffee in the mornings before the day gets hot. eddie likes it even if danielle has rotten taste. lemon yellow paint and pink awnings over the windows, concrete cherubs on the porch steps. a running bird bath with small artificial stones of blue glass sparkling under the water.
they sit in the chipped white chairs on the patio. when joey takes a sip from the bottle eddie's brought out for her, one of danielle's wine coolers that she been told she was welcome to, joey pulls a face that makes eddie laugh and laugh and laugh until there are tears in her eyes and somebody down the row yells at them out the window to keep it down—but that only makes eddie laugh harder. joey tells her about work, about the ranch, and the last one. eddie knows she must have the moon in her eyes, watching joey talk, because sometimes joey catches her eye and seems to lose her train of thought. every time it happens, eddie grins.
the baby monitor never chirps where eddie holds it tucked into her lap. danielle won't be home until three or four in the morning, once the bar is closed. eddie thinks about it. she thinks about the white tshirt she's wearing over her cutoffs, the one that joey had left in her car two nights ago after changing to go out after work. she thinks about the backseat where they'd wasted an hour they didn't mean to, the sound of her own voice saying oh honey, oh honey, oh honey over and over again until she was nearly crying with sensation. she'd meant to wash the shirt and give it back, had washed it, but joey's caught her out. that's all right. eddie's sure she doesn't mind.
folded up in the uncomfortable chair, barefoot, running her hands over her two long braids that are messy and fuzzing-out after a long day of cleaning house, there's no reason for eddie to be so happy about her life that anyone looking in from the outside would recognize. this isn't her place and she won't be here long. but she does love listening to joey tell her stories, loves watching joey be joey. the way that she is. being around her gives eddie energy, feeds her. makes her feel invincible. she thinks about the backseat again when joey leans back in her chair, legs spread wide, flashing her arms under the neatly rolled sleeves of her button-up. wishes she could take joey's hand a third time and let her walk her backwards towards her borrowed bedroom at the back of the house, too busy to look where they're going. thinks about it so long that it gets quiet between them. joey's smirking like she knows. eddie turns pink.
"you can go out, you know. s'not late. i wouldn't mind it."
joey shakes her head, "i'm not in a hurry. on the contrary."
so happy with the answer that it makes her shy, eddie takes a sip from her wine cooler. it's too sweet but she doesn't mind it too much. without thinking, or thinking more than she should without realizing it, she says, "wish this was our place so i could take you back inside."
the quiet comes back thicker than before and eddie feels a wash of cold water in comprehending what she's said. they've never talked like that before. her mouth turns at the corner and she peels at the pretty foiled label of the bottle she's balancing on her knees, avoiding joe's eyes. "i just meant that— it's a nice place." her recovery is no recovery at all. eddie's heart hammers just as hard she can feel joey looking. "i mean... i wouldn't mind to live in a place like this."
eddie glances up at joey, pale eyes gone almost translucent in the garish orange light from danielle's painted-lantern porchlight. gets that feeling that she gets sometimes, where she feels she'll shake apart or shrink, like her chest is pressing in towards her ribcage and it'll soon be hard to breathe. she doesn't want joey to see her like that so she looks down again, the label ripping, wet with condensation, sticking to her fingers like flecks of metallic paint, and tries to focus on the nearby hum of the interstate, barking dogs, the hazy sound of the summertime insects. "one day."
that's good. better. the baby monitor creaks with feedback and the sound of the baby rustling, probably just fussing a little in her sleep, but eddie's never got up so fast in her life.
