Page 34 of Space Oddities

I wince. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Why is it embarrassing?” She throws up her delicate hands, looking exasperated. “Lots of people are claustrophobic. It’s like the peanut allergy of fears. Totally common.”

I’d expected her anger toward me for not telling her sooner, but I wasn’t expecting understanding. My father never gave me that.

She rests one of her hands on my arm. “Have you seen anyone about it?”

I frown at her hand, wondering how she went from surprised to angry and now caring so quickly.

“You know, a therapist?” she prods.

“I’m not sure.” I run a hand down the back of my neck, my father’s words reverberating inside my head. Telling me my claustrophobia means I’m weak. A quitter. Iknowthat he’s wrong. I know that I don’t need to be embarrassed. But I am. “But… I might need to. I’m up for a promotion at work, and it requires international travel.”

“Oh.” More realization. “The plane.”

“Yeah.” I scoff, turning and leaning my head back on the couch. “The plane.” I feel drained. “I need to fly to the German Aerospace Center in Cologne.”

Shifting, Trish pulls herself up straight, grabbing her phone from beside her.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking up therapists in the area.” She taps away at her phone. “We’ll figure this out, don’t worry.”

For once, the use of the royal we doesn’t bother me. Maybe because it’s not my father using it. But more probable is that it’s Trish saying it about us. Acting like we’re a team. Like we’re together.

I put my hand over her hers holding the phone. “Okay.” My voice is suddenly as calm as I feel. “We’ll figure this out.” I pluck the phone from her and toss it on the couch cushion behind me. “But first, how about one more episode?” I pick up the TV remote, clicking the play button.

A slow but wide smile lights up Trish’s small face when I look down at her, snuggling in next to me. “Ye,” she answers, her Korean pronunciation wavering.

It’s perfect.

* * *

Trish

Warm and cozy,I snuggle deeper into the pillow and blanket fort.

It isn’t until my backside rubs up against a lead pipe that I remember Ian and I are no longer laid out in front of the TV.

The last thing I remember before sleep took me is a piggyback ride upstairs to my room, followed by a kiss on my forehead. It was sweet, the perfect ending to what could’ve been an awkward night. After confessing about being claustrophobic, he could’ve tried to press me for more information about myself, but he didn’t. I ended up telling him way more than I had planned anyhow. I think we both did.

But it felt right giving him a part of myself I’ve held back for so long. It felt good.

Even better than the morning wood pitched up against my rear end.

“Ian?”

“Hmm?” His arm, which is draped over me, tucks me tighter against him.

Opening my eyes, I realize it wasn’t my room that Ian tucked me into last night, it was his. Large windows, sans blinds or curtains, let in morning light. His house faces south, so it isn’t blinding. Walls a few shades lighter and grayer than his blue eyes, a tallboy dresser, and a bureau that remind me of Amish furniture I’ve seen in magazines. Clean lines, solid, well made.

The room is very Ian.

It’s also clutter-free, which has me wondering if Ian tried to put me in my own room last night but took one look at the mess I’ve made inside and decided not to chance it.

I really should straighten up today.

Soft, light flannel covers the legs spooning mine while I’m still in my tank top and short pajamas from last night. I’m such a tramp for being disappointed that Ian and I are both clothed.

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