Page 85 of The Bright Side of Brooding
“Are you up for a hug?”
She tucked her arms tighter to her. “Better not. I’ll probably just start crying again.”
My spirits, already low, sank further. She was hurting and upset, and this was not the time to be selfish and wish she’d let me hug her. Yes, it might bring her comfort, but I wanted it to helpmefeel better too. I wanted to hold her, feel her whole and safe, and reassure myself she was okay.
She cleared her throat and sat, so I followed her lead and did the same, a cushion away on the couch.
“So, hi.”
A surprised chuckle released a modicum of pressure in my chest. “Hi.”
“How was your trip?”
“Uh… good.” I shifted in the seat. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk any more about—”
“I don’t want to give that jerk another thought. I know I will, and I am going to have to deal with that at work, too, but right now, I want to talk about last week.”
“Okay.” She could drive this train, and I’d ride along.
Her lips flattened at the edges. “I’ve been thinking a lot about our last conversation.”
I nodded—good. I would’ve been extremely disappointed if she hadn’t.
“One of the things that happened that day was a bit of a reality check. My boss basically said the food drive was useless in terms of my resumé.”
I straightened. How could doing something good for the community be useless?
“The point was to demonstrate my ability to lead other people, to corral volunteers or something along those lines. And my default has always been to go at it alone. I got so focused on making sure I’d be able to claim it asmyproject, I even lashed out at you for being so thoughtful and helpful.” She swallowed, like a swarm of nerves had hit her.
“I’ll admit I didn’t see that one coming.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry for that. I wish I hadn’t gotten upset. I know a lot of my feelings regarding people helping, even on a project explicitly to help other people, is rooted in old issues that created bad habits. I’ve let that slip in a lot lately, and I’m going to work on that.”
I nodded again in acknowledgement. Commenting on her admitting herissuesdidn’t seem wise.
“I talked with Ariel, too. She thinks I need to work on asking for help. She has her own story about that, but it convinced me I need to. I’ve come up with another project, one that I think will be amazing and alsorequirehelp. It’ll require me to solicit it from friends and the community at large. So I’m going to be reaching out to Emily, Katie, Bec, Ariel, and of course, anyone else who wants to join to make it happen.”
The small smile on her face should’ve warmed me. She felt good about this news—maybe even proud. Planning to ask for help was clearly a big step for her, and verbalizing that so clearly likely counted as another one.
But what I heard there was that she’d ask anyone but me for help. That she’d ask people for help for work but didn’t see that translating to any problems between us. At some point, I needed her to need me. Wasn’t that how relationships worked? Not in a simpering, sickly way that drains a person, but in the way that saysI trust you.I want you, I need you, and those things are true because I trust you. Without the need, to some degree, wasn’t it all still just physical?
I tamped down the jump of worry that we’d never get to that place and resolved to listen. To be here, right now, and hope that the next stop in this conversation would shift tous.
“That sounds good. Let me know if I can help.”
Her eyes softened, and she reached out her hand. The fact that we hadn’t touched yet certainly stood out.
Her soft, warm hand in mine calmed me. I’d missed her to a ridiculous degree while I was gone, particularly since we’d parted on such negative terms. The slip of her palm against mine renewed my hope we could find a way forward, even if not much about the conversation had to do with the primary issue between us.
“O-of course you can.”
“Of course?”
I kept my gaze on our interlaced hands, willing her to continue. After another moment, she did.
“I’m sorry for how I spoke to you before your trip. I’m sorry I got upset with you for helping when all you were doing was making the food drive better for everyone.” She scooted closer, not breaking eye contact. “It was messed up to make you feel like helping was wrong.”
I nodded again, relieved. “Thank you.”
