Page 97 of All at Once

So I timidly part my lips open and hope my courage carries me through the end.

“I remember the moment I realized I couldn’t really be myself around them. When I was 12, I tripped at school and told my mom to not tell my dad because I knew he would criticize me. He’d say it was my fault and that it would teach me to be more careful next time. So I just pretended that I was tired, went to my room, and tried my best to fall asleep. Hearing him call me stupid when I was in pain like that wasn’t something I wanted to hear anymore. I never really got used to my father calling me stupid when I’d disappoint him. And I’m not talking about the joking kind of ‘stupid,’ it was a serious knife-to-your-chest kind of hurtful ‘stupid.’ And I just—” I remember the exact reason why I ended the call abruptly with my dad last night. In fear of hearing him call me that same word, worried it would sting more than iteverhas. I choke out, “I feel like such a fucking failure sometimes, for never measuring up to who they wanted me to be.”

I wish I could say that only one tear falls down my cheek. Instead, I’m experiencing the kind of cry that explodes right out of you mid-sentence. One where you cup your face, hoping that’ll somehow help push the saltwater back into your eyes. Sadly, the haunting memories of unwarranted insults and invisible bruises are too strong for even my persistent fingers to hold back. So I stop fighting it, and let the feelings from my childhood crash like a crestfallen shipwreck down my face.

“Hey,” is all my ears need to pick up on from Luca’s lips to even remember he’s still here. And just heardandsaw everything. When his fingers rest over my wrist, I feel the tears slowly begin to dry out.

I press my fingers onto my sticky and damp cheeks, wiping away my involuntary breakdown. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to cry.”

“Don’t apologize for that,” he says so genuinely. “And the only thing I find stupid is how anyone would think it’s okay to make someone feel that way.”

My lips slowly curve into a smile, my heart aching when Luca moves his fingers away from my skin. Then I remember where I was even going with this. “From that point on, I would hide things from them unless I absolutely knew Ineededtheir help. My pain, my interests, and most things about myself. Hiding things from them in a way became the only way to not disappoint them. But it also felt extremely conflicting because I couldn’t hideeverything. Like where I was going, or who I was going to be with, or even wantingto go on this vacation. Certain things it was always expected of me to share with them, so a lot of the times I just felt confused trying to be careful on what I could share or keep to myself.”

“Jasmine, I—I don’t really know what to say,” Luca replies on an exhale. “I’m really sorry you had to go through all of that. Bottling up your pain and having to feel like you can’t be yourself or a toned down version of you is unfair, and it sucks.”

“Yeah, and it only works for so long.” I smile down at my hands scornfully, feeling the sadness catapult into a bitter anger now. “It wasn’t like I could be one version of myself with them and one without them. I had to be so many different versions of myself to make sure something wouldn’t set them off. And then I not-so-gracefully snapped at some point during college, but at least started expressing how I felt about some of it with them. Although, nothing really changed until I moved out last year.”

“You want me to say, fuck ‘em? Because I will,” Luca trails off, “if it’ll make you feel better. Youdeserveto feel better.”

Wondering if his eyes are about to water or burst into flames, I reply, “No,” as I laugh out the remaining tears.

Alone. Is how I’ve felt for years. Without siblings. Around the closest people who never seemed to understand me. Or maybe did, but didn’t seem to care, something I always tried to convince that the former was true. Sitting in this cozy apartment reminds me justhowalone I have felt. And for some reason don’t feel as much right now, even though I’m the farthest away from home I’ve ever been.

As I’m smiling, Luca now offers, “I know what you need.”

“A time machine?” I guess.

“No,” he reminds, “some of that nice and hard chocolate cake we just made.”

I know the exact cake he’s referring to. The second batter we burnt. So I laugh. Masking the pool of heat that has suddenly curled up my stomach at thewayhe chose to say that to me.

Trying to also find the silver lining of all these past memories, I say, “In a really bizarre way, a lot of this made me almost ‘find myself.’ I think I naturally leaned in to the more dramatic or ‘delusional’ or whatever you want to call it side of me the more they criticized it. To be fair though, I haven’t seen many results so maybe they weren’t too far off with their opinions,” I joke hesitantly.

Luca shakes his head. “It’s not my place to interject here, since I don’t know them. But with all due respect they couldn’t bemorefar off.” He grins, a glimmer appearing in his eyes. “I think if the younger version of you could see you now, she’d be really proud.”

My eyes are starting to tingle again. But now from utter joy. If the younger version of me could see Luca right now she’d say,kiss him already!

It’s not just this. The younger version of me feels seen all of a sudden. The way she never did before.

When our eyes clasp onto each other in what feels like a minute-long embrace, Luca’s cheeks flush as he stutters, “I mean, not that my opinion should weigh much, but I think you’re doing a pretty good job.”

It’s not lost on me how he tries to reword his comment to make it seem more casual. Yet knowing his original compliment fills me with a warmth. One that’s filling my entire stomach with delight.

I match his smile. “Thanks, so are you.”

He runs his fingers through his hair before raising his hands facetiously. “And with that, all our problems are gone.”

“What problems?” I tease.

Luca faces toward the television as he relaxes his head against the couch, revealing the side of his neck.“I feel so light right now. I’ve never told anyone any of what I just told you. Not even Sofia. And I used to tell her everything.”

I try not to focus on how smooth his skin looks right now, and the way his Adam’s apple was moving just a second ago. I guess the only way to regain my composure is to also face the TV (aka to no longer look at him). “Thank you for trusting me with all of this,” I say.

He tilts his head to the side and toward me. “Thank you for listening. And for also trusting me.”

The way his lips are curved brings a flutter to my heart as I glance over at him and then back at the blank screen. “I’m sure you’re happy I reminded you more about my frivolousness.”

“I didn’t need a reminder of my favorite thing about you,” he says confidently.

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