Page 96 of All at Once

Who taught this man how to speak?

Reminding myself to breathe normally, I try to slow down my speeding heart rate. “I’m flattered by the things you just said. And not to burst your bubble, but I think a lot of it is a façade.”

His brows furrow amusedly as if he doesn’t believe me. “How so?”

“Well for starters I had a completely different family dynamic growing up. And not trying to compare our situations, just trying to explain what I experienced.” He nods understandingly, while I continue, “My parents have always treated their marriage more like a business partnership than anything else.”

I briefly glance down at my lap, and Luca says, “That must not have been easy.”

“It wasn’t. They showed me exactly what Ididn’twant in a relationship. And I don’t think I told you this yet, but I wasn’t allowed to date until I turned 18,” I reveal.

“Oh really?” he asks, surprised.

“Yeah, which in and of itself wasn’t that much of a big deal,” I say, trying to process my thoughts on this in real time. “But it affected how I was around guys up until that point and was a big reason why I also didn’t really have guy friends before.” It’s then that a memory from years ago returns, still as vivid as before. “During freshman year of college, a guy asked me out for the very first time. But I said no. I was so nervous at what would happen.” I scoff at myself. “Then not too long after, I went to my first college party and found myself in the middle of a truth or dare game. I thought I could handle it. It’sjust a game, right? I quickly learned that I couldn’t, after a guy was dared to kiss me on the lips.”

I close my eyes, swallowing the regret I still feel to this day, part of me wishing I’d just gotten it over with then. Maybe things could have beendifferentif I had just learned to let go before.

“That night I realized that a lot of my parents’ restrictions, one’s that weren’t even related to relationships, had almost melded into my subconscious,” I confess, my eyes growing drearier by the second. “And every year it’s just gotten worse.”

Luca is listening so intently that I want to look away. I feel more vulnerable now. Yet, I also feel a little relieved. And he doesn’t break eye contact. Not for a second, while he says, “Jasmine, I didn’t realize this at all. I thought you just decided on your own to wait. Not that there’s also anything wrong with wanting to wait on your own. Just since you’re so curious about this stuff I assumed it was for a different reason.”

“Yeah, no,” I say. “I think things could have turned out really different without having had a lot of those rules, but what’s the point in me wishing that that was different, you know?”

“No. You’re right.” He nods. “There’s no point in worrying about something you can’t change now.”

“And since you brought up the topic of pedestals,” I continue, “my parents put me on a pedestal that I could never seem to reach. They were so practical about everything, and I was the exact opposite that living with them felt so suffocating the older I got. Of course there were nice moments. But they were very controlling and would always tell me to tone down my personality and keep things to myself. It made me feel very suppressed to not have an outlet to express the things I wanted.”

Luca rests his arm against the couch, and gives me such an earnest grin that I almost forget the gloomy experiences I’m reliving right now. “I personally think the way you’re so animated about things is arguably one of your best qualities,” he says. “It’s a shame that they don’t see that.”

“Thanks Luca,” I somehow manage to say even though his remark leaves me speechless. “And not to go on a tangent here.”

Hesmirks. “I love your tangents.”

I chuckle. “Their opinions weren’t just limited to dating. Growing up, my parents, especially my dad, used to call so many of the things I liked stupid.” I briefly wonder if he’ll think this is a dumb example to bring up. “I still remember the day I found Taylor Swift’s music for the first time and how happy I was. All they did was make fun of me for it, told me how none of it was ‘realistic,’ and that I’m distracted as is. And I thought to myself ‘what the fuck? I’m just a kid, why are you telling me this?’”

Luca crosses his arms, annoyed. “How old were you?”

“I was 10, Luca.10.”

His brows raise at my response. “Okay, that’s pretty messed up. I can’t defend that.”

“Like I’d get if it was someone online making fun of me or even a person at school, butmy parents? It was so much more hurtful to me,” I express. “And it’s not like I was shoving my opinion down their throats. I just wanted to enjoy what I liked. What was so wrong about that?”

He shakes his head reassuringly. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I think that’s actually a big reason why I love her music so much and why I appreciated it even more the older I got,” I explain. “Her songs almost became one of the only outlets I had to stop myself from actually going insane. It was validating to hear someone else describe love in such a whimsical and romantic way, the way I always dreamed of as a little girl. I know this may sound silly.” I smile, but then search his eyes, wondering what he’s thinking.

“I don’t think it’s silly. Not one bit,” Luca says without a trace of doubt. “Music is such a personal thing. I know I have similar artists that make me feel the way you’re describing Taylorto be foryou. And no one should make you feel ashamed for the music you like listening to.”

“I agree. Sadly, I can’t think of much that theydidn’tmake me feel ashamed for though.” I want to smile at how Luca’s responses are continuing to exceed even my expectations. But his words just now somehow cut through me.It wasn’t just dating I felt ashamed for. It wasn’t just music. It was the books I liked reading. The shows I liked watching. The places I wanted to travel to. It was shame for wanting to bemyself.

A sort of darkness I thought I’d shut out resurfaces. One that I never knew who to tell without feeling a roar of guilt hit me.

I’ve gone quiet all of a sudden. Not knowing if I should continue. Maybe if I don’t say these next few thoughts out loud, it would be as if I neverfeltthose things. They wouldn’t feel asreal.

Luca looks at me as if he’s read my entire internal dialogue. “You don’t have to tell me more,” he says, while holding my gaze. “But if you want to talk about it, I’ll listen to all of it.”

If words could give you strength, those last few were enough to crack open the vault that’s blocked me from sharing my succeeding ones with anyone before.

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