Page 33 of A Not-So Holiday Paradise

“That’s it?” I say.

She hesitates before nodding. “That’s the only known trigger. Which is good, I guess—that they don’t just happen out of the blue.”

Despite saying it’s good, though, she looks troubled, her gaze far away, the corners of her lips downturned.

I shouldn’t pry. I shouldn’t care what’s putting that look on her face. And yet…

“But?” I say into the rain-saturated silence.

“But…I don’t know.” Her shrug is a halfhearted thing as she goes on, “I worry.”

I can feel my brow creasing, but I don’t stop it. I’m too busy focusing on her. “What do you mean?”

She sighs. “I mean, Iworry.I worry when I go anywhere with flashing lights. I worry when I don’t get enough sleep. I don’t think it’s anxiety, I think it’s just normal worries. The mind is programmed to throw up red flags against things that could hurt us, right, and so even though I’m medicated and well-controlled, I worry.”

I nod slowly. “Okay, yeah. That makes sense.”

“The problem is, I can’t reallytellanyone I worry. Because then they freak out and start watching me like I’m going to drop dead at any moment.”

I don’t like those words coming out of her mouth. Ireallydon’t like them. But I don’t say anything; I just let her keep going, because from what she’s saying, it sounds like these are thoughts she’s never spoken out loud. I have too many of those to deny her the chance to get them out.

“And so my normal, understandable worries get turned into this big flashing warning sign, and everyone is on red alert just staring at the epileptic girl who’s just trying to go about her business. That kind of attention is one of my worst nightmares. So even though I get nervous sometimes, I just…” She trails off. “I just keep it to myself.”

“I get that,” I say after a second. It’s all I can offer her.

“Do you?” she says, sounding relieved. She turns her entire body to face me. “I’m making sense?”

“Yes,” I say firmly. “Definitely.” And then, even though I remind myself of some self-help text or a walking therapy session, I add, “Those are completely valid feelings.”

“Are they?” she says, and the look on her face is almost desperate. Like no one has ever told her that, and she badly needs to hear it.

“Yes,” I say, even as a strange, simmering irritation edges into my gut. Why is no one telling her these things? Why is no one giving her this kind of support? I’m a crotchety, antisocial emotional dunce, and even I know that human beings need to feel understood. That’s basic science. Is no one meeting that need for her? Wes, her parents, her friends?

“Look at that,” she says softly, pulling me out of my weirdly derailed thoughts, and my stomach flips—because it’s the same thing she said in my dream.

“Look at what?” I say, my voice coming out rough around the edges.

A little smile hovers over her features as she points to my face. “You’re glowering. Have I mortally offended you somehow?”

“No,” I say, some of my frustration leaking into my voice. “I just think it’s stupid that no one is telling you these things when you obviously need to hear them.”

Molly’s head tilts to one side as she looks at me with interest. “Upset on my behalf? I’m touched.”

“It’s not that,” I mutter. This might be a lie. But how do I explain? It doesn’t even make sense to me, how I’m feeling. The closest logic I can come up with is the vague idea that if I’m going to use my body to shelter this woman through a storm, her family and friends better be sheltering her too—whatever form that takes.

I know. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense atall.

“To be fair,” Molly says with a little smile. “I’ve never really told anybody about feeling that way. So…it’s not their fault.”

“You haven’t told anyone?”

“Nope,” she says comfortably. “Just you.”

“Why not?” I say.

She shrugs. “No one wants to hear my thoughts on these things. They’ll just worry.” Then, her eyes dancing, she adds, “And you’resurewe aren’t friends?”

“I’m sure,” I say. The words are automatic, rolling off my tongue without thought. I don’tneedto think about them. Because I feel very certain that I can’t be friends with this woman. I’m too attracted to her, too drawn to her in ways I don’t understand—she’s the flame and I’m the moth.

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