Monday, October 10, 2011

maybe so

It was almost break time at Oliver's. They'd had their early morning rush. Oliver was already gone. Jules wondered if he took a nap, sometimes. He understood if he did. Of course, his wife didn't quite understand, but then again, Jules thought Kayla was good at stressing Oliver out, sometimes.

A part of Jules was happy he hadn't settled down, but then again this was settling down, now wasn't it? No party life. No hoodlums to get in quarrels with. A bit of Jules missed his old ways, but not really. At least he knew what day of the week it was. What year it was and where he'd slept. Yet, how could he still feel so lost? He felt as if he was on the outer-bounds of life. Not quite where he should be.

He got some old fellow his coffee and morning glory muffin then. After he rang him up, his cell buzzed in his pocket. Willow texted him. He smiled. It was unexpected, yet all she texted was thanking him, again for going to the movies with Jonah.

Jules lower lip slightly pouted. It had been such a boring night. Even more boring when Jonah decided to talk, non stop during the movie. Didn't matter if Jules leaned over and told him other people at the movies didn't want to hear him. Naturally, Jonah practically jumped out of his seat, freaking out that Jules was coming on to him.

Then more whispering was involved. to tell him that he wasn't. It was the highlight of Jules week, he supposed. Or was that Jonah's? He felt a little sick about it, just remembering. Yes, he was a bona fide babysitter. And miserable.

Perhaps he thought his friends would be Ian's friends. But it hadn't worked out that way. He was so alone. Maybe he always would be. His throat was parched as if he might be coming down with something. He didn't want to be stuck with Jonah. Yet, he was nice. He was doing this..for...

He might have been staring at a case of red velvet cupcakes, but he knew who he was thinking of...Willow. He could hardly speak when the old lady with the pill box hat on her silver hair pointed to the cupcakes.

Jules gave her one free, yet she let him keep the change.

He reached back in his pocket for his phone and texted Willow that it wasn't necessary to thank him again. She'd already done that.

She texted right back that she was between classes and had nothing to do. What are you doing?

Jules festered a look. Didn't Willow know what he was doing? Working? He texted back that he was in the middle of her favorite museum in Paris, didn't she want to come? He smiled then, and smiled even more when she sent back a smiley face.

"Jules, you have a minute?" Oliver called him to the back. Jules guessed he better think about prepping the daily lunch items. Fish and chips, their specialty.

"How hard would it be to get your driver's license?" Oliver wanted to know.

"You tell me." Jules had no idea, actually. Especially, the paperwork involved. He supposed he had it somewhere in the top drawer of the dresser in his room.

"What I mean, you can drive, can't you?" Oliver asked.

Jules nodded as he scratched the side of his head. Oliver then lead him out back, past their garden. There was an old white van.

"I guess I could drive it." Jules had never driven something that size. "Whats it for?"

"Expansion." Oliver hugged himself.

Jules faked a lukewarm smile. He got right back on his cell, to text Willow back.


Immediately his cell rang and he picked up.

"Are you dieing?" Willow wanted to know.

"I might, if I don't figure out how to drive." He confessed. Of course, Willow promised she'd help. He hoped she'd come around today.


ivy's closet said...

It would be hard, thinking how Oliver is depending on him..with the van. Glad he's got Willow to talk too.

molly said...

Looks like things are turning around for him.

Cafe Fashionista said...

I'm glad Willow is trying to lend a helping hand. :)

Anonymous said...

I think someone has found a friend.

FWB said...

Aw, glad Willow answered.

She is Sara said...

Willow seems like a great friend, he needs her.

meg said...

I'm glad he's got someone to confide in.