Chapter 40 Confused

Chapter 40 Confused
Maya's POV

The room was too quiet. The machines beeped their soft, steady rhythm. The lights hummed and Papa's breathing was slow and even, he was asleep again, his face turned slightly toward the window, toward the dark.

I was still sitting beside his bed and Justin was still in the chair.

Neither of us had moved or spoken, but my mind wouldn't stop.

"Ah," he murmured. "I understand now."

What does he understand? What does he think he sees?

Does he think…

No.

He can't think that.

There's actually nothing to think.

Justin is just…He's just…

I stole a glance at him.

He was watching Papa's face. His expression was soft and thoughtful. There was something in his eyes I couldn't read.

What is he thinking? Does he care about Papa? Or is he just waiting for this to be over so he can go back to his life?

His real life.

The one without me.

"Why were you smiling?"

The words came out before I could stop them.

Justin turned to look at me. "What?"

"Why were you smiling?" I kept my voice low, but it was sharp. "When my father asked who you were. You just sat there, smiling. You didn't say anything."

Justin glanced at Papa. Still asleep. Then back at me.

"Shhhh….your father is sleeping," he said quietly. "We can talk about this later."

"Don't shut me up." I leaned forward. "I want to know. You didn't even try to help me. You just sat there smiling silently."

He looked at me for a long moment, then his mouth curved, just slightly. Just enough to make my blood pressure spike.

Why is he smiling again? Does he think this is funny?

"I'm going to get coffee," he said. "Do you want anything?"

Coffee?

He's asking about COFFEE?

I stared at him.

I didn't answer.

He stood up, stretched his arms above his head. Like he didn't have a care in the world, or like my entire world wasn't crumbling around me.

"Don't tell me you're going to keep silent on me," he said.

"Well, it's my mouth," I snapped. "And I can do whatever I damn please with it."

He smiled again and nodded. Like I'd just proved some point he'd been making in his head.

He's impossible. He's absolutely impossible, and I can't…

"Justin."

He stopped and turned back.

"Who is Cynthia to you?"

The question hung in the air between us.

“What?”

"I'd like to know who she is." My voice was quieter now. It was less sharp, but more... something else. Something I didn't want to name. "Because I... I wouldn't want to be the reason why you and her didn't work out."

Why am I saying this? Why can't I just let it go?

Why do I need to know?

Justin's expression shifted. The smile faded and something else took its place.

"Maya, this isn't the time to discuss this." He gestured toward Papa. "Your father is…"

"When?" The word came out sharper than I intended. "When is the time and place, Justin? Oh, is it when she attacks me physically? Or until this whole thing destroys me? Is that when you'll finally tell me the truth?"

The ring.

Yes, she mentioned a ring.

What ring? Was she his girlfriend?

Is she still?

What are they to each other?

What am I to him?

"What ring is she talking about?" I asked. "Why does she keep talking about a ring?"

Justin was quiet.

"It's nothing serious," he said finally.

Nothing serious. Nothing SERIOUS? Are you serious right now?

I laughed but it came out bitter and broken.

Justin rubbed the back of his neck.

"Cynthia and I are complicated."

Complicated. That word again.

Adults loved that word. Complicated meant secrets, it meant unfinished feelings, it meant there were things I wasn't allowed to ask about.

And suddenly I hated it. Hated her.
Hated the way she looked at him like she knew parts of him I never would.

"My father just asked me who you are to me." My voice cracked. "And I couldn't even say anything. You know why? Because I'm conflicted, Justin. Every time you're close, my heart races. My palms sweat, I forget how to breathe, I forget how to think, I forget how to be anyone except the girl who's desperately trying not to look at you."

What am I saying? Shit, Maya.

Why am I saying this?

Stop.

Stop talking.

"But I can't do anything about it. You know why?" I looked at him. "Because I don't even know you. I know you're a coach, I know you have a sister named Emma. I know you feel guilty about something that happened in the past. But I don't know what you're thinking, I don't know what you're feeling. I don't know if any of this… means anything to you at all."

The words hung in the air.

"Maya..."

"Oh, shit."

The realization hit me like a wave of ice water.

I said too much.

I said WAY too much.

He's going to think I'm crazy.

He's going to think I'm…

I looked away and pressed my palms against my eyes. I tried to disappear into the chair.

"Forget I said anything."

"Maya…"

"Forget it."

"Maya, look at me."

I didn't.

"Maya. Look at me."

I lowered my hands.

He was standing there. His face was unreadable and his eyes were soft.

"What would you have me say?" he asked quietly. "When your father asks who I am? What would you have me tell him?"

What would I have him say?

That he's my boyfriend? That would be a lie.

That he's just a coach?

That would hurt.

That he's someone trying to help?

That's not enough.

Not anymore, not after everything.

I looked at him and he looked at me.

The machines beeped, the lights hummed, and somewhere in the silence between us, the question lingered.

Waiting.

Then…

"Why are you two whispering like criminals?"

I jumped so hard I nearly fell out of the chair. Papa's voice was rough with sleep, weak and tired, but unmistakably amused.
Justin stepped back immediately, like he'd been caught doing something illegal.

"I didn't realize you were awake, sir," he said.

Papa looked between us slowly. His eyes were still heavy from medication but there was something sharp underneath them now. Something knowing.

"Mmm." His gaze lingered on Justin for a second too long. "I may be old, but I am not dead yet."

Heat rushed straight to my face.
Oh my God.

"Papa," I hissed. "Go back to sleep."

That only made the corner of his mouth twitch. Justin coughed into his fist, very obviously hiding a smile.

Traitor.

Papa looked at me again, then at Justin.
Then back at me.

Ahh no.
No, no, no.
Don't do that parent thing where you silently decide things.

"Interesting," he murmured.

"What is interesting?" I asked too quickly.

Papa ignored me completely. Instead, he looked at Justin.

"You care about my daughter."

Not a question, but a statement.

My heart stopped. Justin's expression changed slightly. It became softer and more serious.

And for the first time since I'd met him…he didn't immediately look away.