“Not necessary,” she said.
“I know,” I replied quietly. “I want to.”
“You want to tell me a joke.”
“I do.”
More glares. Beautiful, enticing glares.
I was such a mess.
“Fine,” she said.
“Really?”
“Go on,” she muttered, “be
fore I change my mind.”
“Okay,” I said. I took a deep breath and realized I had absolutely no joke in mind to tell her, and under the pressure of needing to come up with a good one, my mind was completely frozen. I knew some good jokes, and I was good at telling them, but right at that moment, I couldn’t think of anything but the stupidest jokes from childhood.
“Well?” Milena stared at me. I was pretty sure her foot was tapping.
“Why did the captain flush the toilet?” I blurted out.
Her eyebrows rose, but she said nothing. It was far too late to think of something better, so I just delivered the punch line with a punchy smile.
“It was his duty!”
She kept staring at me, but there was the slightest twitch in the corner of her eye at the same time. If I wasn’t so fascinated with them, I probably wouldn’t have noticed. I did know exactly what that meant, though – it meant she was about to give in.
My heart beat faster.
She cracked a half-smile as she turned to look away and sigh.
“That was awful,” she informed me.
“I know,” I said. “I couldn’t take the pressure.”
I laughed and she laughed with me. Her eyes sparkled and shone with humor, and again my pulse raced. I couldn’t stop looking at her and found myself saddened as her expression dropped back to melancholy.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her.
Milena sighed heavily and gestured towards the seat across from her. I was all too happy to join her and pulled the barstool up close to the table as I sat down. I leaned forward on my elbows – just wanting to be a little closer to her – and waited for her to say something.
“My brother is an ass,” she finally said. “I know he means well and all that, but he’s seriously interfering with my life.”
“What did he do?”
“The same shit he always does,” she said. “He’s trying to run my life. He’s trying to replace Mom and Dad.”
Her voice faltered a little when she mentioned her parents, and I knew they were dead.
“What happened to them?” I asked quietly. “I mean, if you want to tell me. I’m not trying to pry.”
I was; I was trying to pry.
“Okay,” I corrected, still unwilling to lie to her, “I do want to pry. I want to know, if you’re willing to tell me.”