Communication

by Stella Notecor

  ~*~

  Tatiana shifted the box of Jordan’s things to her hip so she could rap on the front door. As she waited, she stepped beneath the overhang to hide from the burning summer sun. She could hear people laughing inside the brownstone, and she didn’t have to wait long for the door to open.

  Jordan peeked out. “Hey.” He opened the door wide, exposing the kid perched on his hip. They shared the same dark chocolate skin tone and soft, fuzzy hair. “Come on in. I’m just babysitting my nephew.”

  She nodded, sighing inside when he grinned at the little boy. He was so good with kids; how could he not want his own? She walked in as he stepped back. The little boy stared at her with wide eyes. He stuck his thumb in his mouth as she caught his gaze.

  Jordan lowered the boy to the ground and stepped forward to take the box from her. “Thanks for bringing this.” He set the box on the hall table. “Let me go get your stuff.”

  He headed for the bedroom, leaving Tatiana alone with the little boy. She squatted down so she could meet his eyes.

  “Hi, sweetie. What’s your name?”

  “Marc,” he murmured around his thumb.

  “I’m Tatiana. Are you having fun with your Uncle Jordan?”

  Marc nodded. “Yeah. But then you came and he felt sad.”

  “You mean he looked sad?” Maybe he missed her as much as she missed him.

  Marc pulled his thumb out of his mouth and shook his head. “No! He felt sad.” He patted the middle of his chest.

  “Marc! Come here!” Jordan called from the other room.

  His eyes widening, Marc frowned. “Uh-oh. He’s mad now!” The kid scurried out of the room.

  Evidently the kid was an empath. Jordan hadn’t sounded angry—in fact, he’d sounded very patient.

  From the bedroom, she could hear them talking. Opening her hearing a little more, she could clearly make out their words.

  “Are you sure you didn’t touch that bag? I’m not going to yell at you if you moved it; I just need to know where it is.”

  “You gonna yell. You feel angry.” A pause. “Are you mad at me?”

  Bedsprings squeaked. “I’m upset about the situation.” A sigh. “I’ll shield now.”

  “You disappeared.”

  “Good. Now, tell me where you put the bag.”

  “I wanted to listen to the CD, so I put it in the living room.”

  More creaking springs. “You stay back here, okay? My friend doesn’t know how to shield.”

  Actually, Tatiana did know how to shield her emotions from empaths. She took a deep breath and imagined all the windows and doors to her mind being sealed shut. She normally didn’t bother, since she didn’t care if people could feel her emotions, but she’d learned to shield for her job.

  Jordan turned the corner into the living room and stopped short. “You… can you shield?”

  “I’m a private investigator. Of course I can shield.”

  He leaned against the wall. “But you never… not around me.”

  “I believe in honesty in relationships.” She gave him a half-smile. “A conviction you don’t seem to share.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve tried explaining to other women. If I explain on the first date, they leave before dessert. If I explain later on, it leads to scenes like the other night. No matter when I do it, I know it’s going to end the relationship.” He pulled away from the wall and wandered over to the television. “I guess it’s selfish, but I like to wait. It’s nice to be with someone for a while.”

  He searched around the entertainment center until he pulled out a plastic bag. Tatiana took it, then waited while he pulled her favorite mixed CD out of the player.

  “Sorry,” he said as he handed it to her. “Marc’s only four, and he doesn’t understand personal belongings.”

  She tucked the CD where it wouldn’t get scratched by her makeup or books. “It’s fine. He’s cute. He looks a lot like you.”

  Jordan ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

  “You’re good with him too.” She set her bag down at her feet. “How can you not want kids when you obviously like them?”

  “Don’t.” His jaw tightened.

  “Don’t what? I’m just asking a question.”

  “And that question will lead to an argument, we’ll both get upset, and then Marc has to deal with all those emotions.”

  Tatiana stretched her hearing again. The kid was humming, and she heard small things crashing against each other. “He’s fine. We’re both shielding; he can’t feel us.”

  “And when our shields fail?”

  She snorted. “I don’t know about you, but my shields don’t fail. Ever. Dropping my shields on a mission means dying.”

  “But if they did—”

  “If they did, it’d be like any kid hearing adults fight. It’s uncomfortable, but you get over it.” Even her parents, as much as they loved each other, had argued. “Good parents don’t fight in front of their children, and good parents of empaths would never broadcast their emotions.”

  He looked away, his lips thin and his forehead lined.

  “But your parents did.”

  “Looking back, I think my dad was an empath, but we didn’t know about paranormals. I found out later.”

  “So your dad didn’t know how to shield.”

  Jordan shook his head. “He couldn’t keep other people’s emotions out, and he couldn’t keep his emotions in. And my mother was bipolar. Every time she got whacked out, so did he. My sister was older and moved out as soon as she turned eighteen. She tried to keep me at her place during the worst fighting, but she isn’t an empath. She had no idea how to help me emotionally.”

  Tatiana laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.” Being subjected to both of his parents’ wild emotions had likely injured his psyche in ways she couldn’t imagine. “I’m amazed you’re so balanced.”

  He barked a laugh. “Sure. Being scared of marriage and kids is balanced.” He shrugged off her hand.

  “Hey, you know who you are and what you want. You’re way ahead of most people who don’t think to want anything except 2.5 kids and a dog.” She stepped forward into his personal bubble. She pressed her palm to his face, loosening her shielding to let her admiration and respect slip through.

  His eyes fluttered shut. “That’s exactly what I want.”

  Tatiana sucked in a breath. “What?”

  “I’m just afraid that I’d screw up my kids.”

  “But you wouldn’t.” She paused until he opened his eyes. “Right now, you’re upset and anxious, but you’re obviously not broadcasting. I can hear Marc playing happily in the other room.”

  “Sure, I’m shielding now. But what about those first sleepless nights with a newborn?” He looked away. “I’d end up one of those crazy dads on TV who shake their kid or drop it out a window.”

  “No, you’d feel the baby’s fear, and it would stop you.” She grabbed his chin and turned his head until he faced her. “Your empathy would make you an amazing father.” She deepened her hearing. Marc was still playing, but she wasn’t listening for him. She was listening for Jordan’s heartbeat.

  His heart was racing, his breathing shallow and fast. He was in fight-or-flight mode. Reasoning with him wouldn’t do anything at this point. With a sigh, she released his chin. “But my words can’t change you. You have to change yourself.”

  Tatiana picked up her bag. She couldn’t give up her dreams of having kids one day for him, and she couldn’t expect him to change his worldview for her. Unless he truly wanted to have kids, he would grow to resent them. As much as she liked him, and as well as they got along, without similar goals, there was no future for them.

  She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “If you decide that you want a family, let me know.”

  He offered her a sad smile. “If I do, you’ll be the first girl I call.”

  She squeezed his arm, then headed out the door. An old habit of hers kicked in, and she widened her hea
ring before opening the door. There was no danger on the other side, but she did pick up the sound of water running in the bathroom. A lot of water.

  “Speaking of kids, Marc’s playing in the tub.”

  Jordan grimaced. “Shit. Marc!” He dashed away, leaving her to let herself out.

  Tatiana stepped outside and let the door swing shut behind her. The bright summer sun was setting, and the wind carried a brisk hint of autumn. She shivered, then tightened her grip on her bag. Time to go.

  Summer was moving on, and so was she.