"Crochet is cool, my mom taught me how to knit, I stopped at some point, was never that good," Isaiah said. "I'm sure you're great though, and paintings really cool too, I'd love to see some of your work."
Isaiah noticed her wince, he hadn't forgotten her injuries, he just didn't know if it was the right time to ask. He doubted it was anything banal like tripping down the stair or crashing her bike. Maybe a car crash? Weirdly he hoped it was something like that, but Isaiah had a bad feeling that it may have been something worse. He let it sit for now and focused on her last comment.
"I don't know, you agreed to get coffee with a sketchy albino guy, if not fun that's at least pretty wild," Isaiah smiled, that's not charming that's stupid. Isaiah let them sit in a comfortable silence for a little while, just them sipping coffee and politely enjoying each other's company. Eventually his leg began to bounce and Isaiah knew he had to address the elephant in the room.
"Bea," he said gently. "Do you mind if I ask how you got hurt?"
"You're not that sketchy," Beatrice said kindly, "You knit and play music, how bad could you be, Mr. Isaiah." She took another sip, and immediately was caught off her guard at his next question. Had he just asked to coffee to ask her about getting hurt. He certainly seemed the type to play the hero and help the poor girl getting beat on by her boyfriend.
The words were on her lips. Beatrice had given the same excuse over and over. Her grip tightened around her coffee cup, and her she could feel her heartbeat again.
I was in a biking accident. I was lucky I was wearing a helmet. It was a nasty landing, but I'll recover.
She put on a smile, and looked up at Isaiah, latent fear in her eyes, and the smell of oranges permeating the small space. He was so genuine, she felt bad lying. Bea chose something closer to the truth, but her voice was still strained.
"I was uh...mugged. Some guy was looking for money. He had a knife and...he was too strong for me to fend off and I got stabbed." Beatrice exhaled. "I'm fine though. It wasn't that bad."
She was lying, or toning down what happened but something was amiss. Regardless it was at least partly true, and Isaiah could tell in how she closed up and tensed at the question that she didn't want further pushing. He knew that feeling, feeling like people were only around you because of their moral obligation to care for you, and not because they wanted to be around for you.
He took a chance, it was a small gesture, but it could also blow up in his face. Isaiah slowly leaned forward and shifted his hand to gently touch Bea's, laying over it so she could take it if she wanted or retreat if she preferred. He smile, a genuine smile. He liked Bea, she was genuinely interesting and nice to talk to; and he wanted her desperately to know that.
"I needed to ask, and I'm glad you're okay... and it's also okay if you're not," Isaiah let it sit for a moment before he tried to break the tension. "I'm sure the other guy looks even worse." He offered a laugh and relaxed his posture, still allowing her access to his hand should she want to keep it. You're pushing too hard she's going to be freaked out.
"And if you're wondering I didn't invite you for coffee just because I was worried about you," he continued. He faked a dramatically haughty tone of voice. "I just saw a beautiful girl and could not help myself."
"He doesn't...look worse." Isaiah gave her too much credit. She had barely been able to fight back, even a little against the Mustache Man. He gently moved his hand until his fingertips were brushing against hers.
It's okay if you're not okay.
Beatrice blinked back tears that came unbidden, keeping them at bay. She didn't like to cry.
She reached accepted the gesture, and squeezed his hand tightly. Bea didn't know what she relying on the comfort of a stranger, but for so long she hadn't been okay. And he was the first to admit that might be the case.
And then he called her, with ragged hair, red eyes and barely concealed bruises, beautiful. Beatrice choked out a laugh, "Thank you."
Isaiah squeezed her hand back, he saw the tears in her eyes and wanted nothing more than to just grab her and hug her. Isaiah had always loved easily and freely, he didn't know Bea very well, but she'd been through so much and come out the other side. He admired that, it was a privileged to be able to give her just a moment of comfort and support. Isaiah pushed aside his misgivings and anxieties, and allowed himself to feel this moment of simple humanity, this reckless love.
"No need to thank me, I'm just saying what I see," Isaiah said. "I mean, it's in your name, Bea, Bea-utiful, can't argue with that."
Beatrice laughed again, wiping her eyes before donning her sunglasses again. She kept holding his hand even though she didn’t know why, “That’s a terrible pun Mr. Isaiah. However, points for originality.”
She squeezed his hand, “No, I mean it…Thank you. You’ve been very kind and you don’t even know me.”
