Page 53 of Waiting for Gilbert

I raise my eyebrows, and she scowls as if this is my fault. Thankfully my shields are still in place.

“I dated the guy almost two years, and we—well, I guess I thought he loved me. Good joke, yeah? We said the words. But how could he?” She sweeps her arms wide, and her gestures speed along with her words. “It’s clear I didn’t lovehimbecause I don’t miss him. I’m over here crying because I’m lonely and all broken-up, but good grief! Can you think for one ever-loving minute what might have happened if we’d gotten married? What a mess. What a stinking awful mess that would’ve been.”

I’m very still. I hold the deck together mid-shuffle while she looks at me with tear-filled eyes. My thoughts careen back to the part where she said she’s not what men want. Who are these men, anyway?

“How could Shaun love me when he didn’t know me? I was really fun. So fun. I was happy all the time but it wasn’t good enough. So you know what that makes me? A terrible person.” The sides of her mouth quiver, and she continues to shake her head. “I’m a rotten, despicable person. Here you are trying to be nice. Why are you here? I’m the worst company. Then when you explain the rules to a card game, I’m so insanely annoyed.” She forms bear claws and grips the side of her face. “So annoyed with you because I can’t remember a freaking thing you said about the cards, and I don’t want to play a stupid card game. Why am I so mad? I want to physically hurt you right now because you’re the worst. It’s bad, Gilbert.”

Can I hug her? Is that acceptable? She might claw my face. If I stand up, she’ll probably stop talking, and I want her to be able to say everything. It seems she’s been holding in so many things.Lord, let her sift through the lies and find Your truth.

Another gulping breath and she starts again. “Then Diana and Nathan are so utterly perfect it’s maddening. Diana said my online dating profile sucks. What does she know? She’s never looked at anyone’s dating profile. And Nathan. Nathan! The man wasnicetonight, and I love him for it because I’ve always thought he was simply wonderful.”

“You’re in love with Nathan?”

“Ew! Gilbert.” She stretches her arms to the middle of the table and rests her forehead on the wood. “Keep up! I’m in love with what I don’t have. I want what Diana has.” Her head pops up, and she spears me with a glare. “I don’t want six kids and to be a froufrou housekeeper or—I don’t know. Maybe I do! Maybe I’d be the best stinking trophy wife you’d ever have!”

Cordelia launches from her chair so fast it falls to the floor. She squeaks and quickly rights it. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Gilbert. I don’t—” With head tilted to the ceiling, she scrubs her hands over her face. “My brain and my mouth are like these dueling tornados. I don’t want to be saying any of this. Especially to you when you’re nice and talented and loved by all. You already think I’m unhinged or crazy or whatever. Just like everybody else.”

Her arms fling wide, words tumbling down a mountain, an avalanche that has been on the brink for far too long. “You know how many times I’ve heard that in my life? Cordy, you’re crazy! Cordy, you’re out of control. Cordy, calm down. Grow up! Settle down. Sit still. Be quiet. Pay attention. What were you thinking?” Her red socks hardly make a sound when she stomps. “I’ll tell you! I’m thinking—I’m thinking everything all the time.”

She snatches her mug and holds it against her chest with two hands. “Shaun used to say, ‘What’s going on in that brain?’ And…” True vulnerability shines through her expression, and she rubs a finger along her lips. “Was it me? Do you think maybe it’s because he thought I was broken? Like, maybe I made him feel… like he needed—He’d say it like he was surprised, but then it wasn’t a compliment. But that’s not my fault. Is it? Is it bad that I have all these different ideas—if he didn’t want to be with me because I was—Ahh.” She walks in a small circle clutching her head. “Ignore all of this. I’m sorry, Gil. I get it. I’m a huge disappointment to everyone who knows me. I understand if you don’t want to hang out anymore.”

I definitely want to hang out more. She never would’ve dumped any of it unless she felt safe—unless she trusted, in some small way, for me to accept it. Accept her. If I leave now she’ll regret it for a really long time. Maybe forever. I set the cards aside and orient my body to her. “Tell me the rest.”

“Psh. ‘The rest,’ he says. Like you haven’t heard enough. I need to get through Christmas, and it’ll be fine. Everything will be fine. Sometimes I feel trapped by all those people, and I get the feeling they hate me.”

“Do they?”

“Of course not. Probably not. That’d be dumb.” The avalanche has slowed and the last pebbles settle at the foot of the mountain. Her posture slumps.

“If it’s worth anything, I’ll be here. Right next door. Text me anytime.”

“You’ll get sick of me.” The girl has the audacity to roll her eyes. “I’ll be like an itch you can’t scratch.”

“Try me.” I’d like to hear more about this Shaun idiot. But not tonight. “Cordelia. You—Do you hear me? You are not a disappointment. You have a wonderful brain, and you don’t need to apologize for it—especially not to me.”

“Okay, well.” Her gaze flits around the room, unable to land. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to be rude. So, thanks for the tea or whatever. You can go now. I have some stuff I gotta do online.”

Wait. Online? Did she say an online dating profile? “Or.” I raise my hand. “Hear me out. Starting computer work this late might not be the best use of your time. Is there a card gameyoulike to play that you can teach me?”

Her legs collapse, and she sits in the middle of the kitchen floor. “I’m tired.”

“Sure. Of course. If I leave, will you go to bed?”

She’s standing again. “No.” Then with a wet rag in hand, she crawls across the floor, mopping. “I can play Speed. You know that one?”

I cross the two steps and force her to stand. She allows me to take the rag and toss it into the sink. Wild red waves dance around her face. “Five cards facedown on either side, keep five in your hand, play up or down in the middle until your personal stack is gone?”

We blink at each other.

Somewhere in the bathroom a faucet drips.

She nods.

The urge to pull her into a hug is strong enough that I physically fight it. If I follow that impulse, there won’t be any card games. I’d hug her, for sure. Then I might lose my mind and rub a hand along her back. The girly scent of her shampoo doesn’t help matters. If I brushed my hand across her temple and tucked the wayward strands behind her ears, how would I walk away? Provided she reciprocates this feeling even a little, there wouldn’t be an easy retreat. And if she does not?—

Two friends drinking tea and playing cards. Nothing else.

I think of all the work waiting next door. I’m penniless. I’m not dating. I cannot support a family. I have nothing of value to offer. Therefore, there is no reason for a girlfriend. A girlfriend wants things from me I can’t give. She’ll want my time. She’ll want things I can’t buy. She’ll demand more of me than I have and when she figures out I won’t change for her, she’ll leave.

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