Page 27 of Playing For Keeps

Farren seemed so animated, her eyes bright as she spoke about how excited she was for the next con she planned to attend: PAX Unplugged. It wasn’t until later in the year, but the date was Sharpie’d into her calendar in the kitchen. She often either went with friends or took the AMTRAK up to Philly. December was practically around the corner, and he hoped they’d still be within each other’s orbit by then because he’d love to watch her in her element.

She didn’t talk about teaching this way. Sure, she was still excited and enjoyed it or she wouldn’t be doing it. But there was none of this deep-seated fire when she spoke about lesson plans or racing after unruly children. There was an air of exasperation around the substitute teaching. Sebastian wondered how much of her transitory nature was due to her actually enjoying it, or if she, like he, hid behind what she was comfortable in.

He couldn’t say shit, not when he’d buried himself in work to ignore the crushing feeling of knowing his parents would rather he be like them than his own person. They’d always been so involved in each other, in picketing, in sustainable living… fair and righteous, but they didn’t notice they had someone relying on them, living alongside them. Sebastian became independent from a young age, and it carried over since. When Ashley pulled the rug out from under him, ruined his chances and his trust, it only seemed to steer him deeper down this path.

He longed for a sense of security he’d convinced himself couldn’t come from people, especially not when those closest to him had proven otherwise. Still, with Farren, it made him wonder. Was this side of her—the light and easygoing—a coping mechanism? A pretty cover over a cracked surface? Probably not. Sebastian might just be projecting his own damage onto her.

Later, when conversation wound down and they cuddled on the couch under one of her soft throw blankets, he dared to ask a probing question.

“Tell me something you’ve never told anyone else,” he said, quickly interjecting when she opened her mouth as if to argue, “The game doesn’t count because I stumbled upon that myself, it wasn’t volunteered.”

Farren’s little huff was hilarious to him, and he laughed. “Fine, but only if you promise to reciprocate.” It was a caveat he had no choice but to honor.

“I’ve never told a romantic partner I love them.” It was said carefully, as if she worked hard to keep her tone bland.

There wasn’t much he could say, especially given he hadn’t either. Though Sebastian suspected her reasoning was different from his. He’d merely not dated much, most encounters not reaching a serious level because he kept himself apart, aloof. Sebastian knew she’d done a lot more for partners than he had—even moving states and cities for those she’d been involved with. Her keeping the sentiment to herself, whether she felt it or not, was deliberate.

“Because you haven’t been in love or because you simply didn’t want to tell them?” he asked before he could lose his resolve.

“I’m fairly certain I’ve experienced it, I just… I’ve never been brave enough.”

It was Sebastian’s turn to scoff. “You? Not brave?”

Her breath seemed to catch in her chest before she launched into the rest of her confession. “Okay, fine. I didn’t want to give them power over me. I’ve spent my whole adult life trying to come into my own—something I’m still working on—and I was afraid if I gave into that… gave into them, I’d end up where I tried so hard to leave.”

“What did you leave?” he asked, needing more. Sebastian wanted to draw as much from her as he would be allowed, eager for information, for intimacy and secrets, the depth he’d previously deprived himself of.

“My family. The traditional expectation of what my life should look like. They never took the time to see me outside of their mild-mannered child, a good little Catholic with a too-big body, and not as smart as some of my other siblings. The unspoken rule was I’d stay in New Hampshire, become a homemaker like my mom—not that there’s anything wrong with that,” she paused, sighing heavily, her heart racing against where they were pressed together. “But it wasn’t what I wanted. I was tired of being invisible, ignored, forgotten in the fray. No one noticed me while I was there. I doubt they miss me much now.” The words were bitter, her forehead pinched as she talked about her past.

Sebastian stroked the pad of his thumb against the crease between her eyes, trying to smooth out the worry and pain there.

“Farren, I’m sure they miss you very much. There’s no way anyone could forget you. I know I haven’t been able to keep you off my mind.”

She answered him by leaning closer to kiss him, soft and sweet.

“How about you? What lies beneath that stoic surface?” she teased, the smile creeping back into her words, the pain of the past set aside for another day.

“My parents never wanted me.”

She shifted out of his embrace, a little shocked from what he could gather, staring at him intently, waiting for him to expand on the statement.

“How?”

How could they? How did he know? Her question prodded at his own insecurities.

“I heard them one night when I was about ten years old. They were talking about how surprised they’d been when they found out about me. They hadn’t been trying, assumed infertility early on in their relationship, and it suited them. So they never tried to find a way around it.” It was his turn to try and breathe when a stone sat in the middle of his sternum, pushing out air quicker than he could take it all in.

“Apparently, they’d briefly considered abortion—which, you know, good for them and I’m glad they were able to have an open discussion about what would be best—but then the romantic notion of someone like them, a product of the deep love they had for each other, made them stick it out. They seemed disappointed that I was so unlike them. Quiet, studious. My mother mourned the lost years they would have liked to travel through, the difference they could have made if they were still in the Peace Corps or the like.”

His hands were shaky as he ran them through his hair. He’d never mentioned any of this to anyone, not even his parents. At ten, he’d wanted nothing more than to confront them, his anger seething so hot inside him, it was a miracle he hadn’t burst at the seams of his own skin.

“They’ve always been this impenetrable unit, the two of them orbiting each other, and me the asteroid trash on the periphery, burned when I got too close to their atmosphere. You talk about not being missed; I get that. I know that. I haven’t spoken to them in months, and they haven’t bothered to check-in. They don’t know about my pitch opportunity and they don’t care. They think it’s ridiculous, capitalist, selfish.” The vitriol behind his words, the aching loneliness left over from his childhood was out on display for her to see.

She looked at him with kindness and care. Not the pity he feared he’d see, or the self-loathing he himself felt at his inability to move past it. It defined every single one of his relationships as an adult. He’d never wanted to get too close because he didn’t want to fall into that same pattern.

Heaven forbid he ever had a child because Sebastian was so convinced he’d mess them up. The detachment he’d grown up with would probably produce the opposite in him out of pure spite: an overbearing husband and father. Since he’d spent so much time being on the outside, it became a comfort, a familiarity difficult to shuck now, and got harder with each passing year.

“I don’t have what you do: the bubbly personality, the unforgettable face and giving nature. I’ve seen you with your friends, I’ve heard you talk about your job. People need you, Farren. They love you. I cannot say the same about myself. It’s my own doing. I’ve alienated myself, never letting myself get too close, scared of being like them… and now… scared of being like this forever.”

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