Afraid.
Unlovable.
I had somehow glanced at what was beneath Marissa’s vibrant, cheerful surface and got an off-limit glimpse at the turmoil underneath.
“The teacher said I could do fears, that one felt easier.” She was pulling on her shirt and looked ready to run as she reached for her poster.
“I admit, I’m surprised. Why would you feel those things?” I ran my hand through my hair. “So far, everyone who comes in the office wants to see you, not me.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s different. I don’t really want to talk about it.” Marissa rested her head on her car. She seemed worn down, and I wanted to make her smile.
“Hm, Yeah . . . mine might be shallow.” I tried to lighten themood. “But yours is not giving me happy vibes . . . I’m thinking I’ll stick with shallow.” I grinned, hoping she could tell I was joking.
She laughed and grabbed her poster back. “Yeah, maybe stick with yours.”
“Yeah, I will keep my vain, shallow life. Thank you very much.”
She swatted at my shoulder and her stiff posture had relaxed. “I didn’t say that.”
I no longer felt like she was ready to bolt. Tonight, Marissa felt different. Vulnerable and real. She still had the smiles and sassy banter, but with a glimpse at the real her, I felt drawn in like a fish on a hook.
“Well, thanks for the interesting night.” She grinned and turned back to her car.
“Hey, how about we go get some pizza?” I wasn’t ready to let her go. “I’m starving.” I nodded at the restaurant.
She slammed the door shut and came up to my side. “Alright. I could always eat.” Her bright countenance was back, but it shined a little truer than before.
We walked into the restaurant. It had black and white tile floors and fluorescent tube lighting above. Stepping up to the counter, a teenager looked up from her phone, popping bubble gum. “Hey, what can I get you?”
Marissa ordered a slice of chicken Alfredo pizza and a Dr. Pepper and paid before I could even offer. Not that I would. I didn’t want to send her running. Although I wouldn’t mind it being a date.
I ordered two slices of pepperoni pizza and Sprite and followed Marissa towards a little table with red benches near the front window.
“How are things with Carol?” She looked up at me over the cup, straw in her mouth.
My stomach stirred with guilt. Tonight, Marissa was showing part of her true self, and I didn’t want to lie to her, but I alsocouldn’t put everything I was working for at risk. “Let’s talk about something new. Not Carol, work, or London.”
She sat up and leaned back in the booth. “Well, what should we talk about then?”
“I don’t care. You start.”
“Hmm.” She tipped her head back and forth. “Favorite color?”
“Green, maybe?”
“Why?”
My immediate thought was because it reminded me of her eyes, but that was way too creepy. “Maybe because it seems full of life? Not sure. What’s your favorite color?”
“Purple.”
“Why?” I countered back.
“Umm,” she turned the cup on the table. “because it reminds me of my mom. She really liked purple. She smelled like lavender, wore the color, and her favorite flower was lilacs. I miss her . . . when I see purple, it’s like my mom saying hi.”
I thought about the scars on her stomach and references to being raised by Nan and talking about her parents in the past tense. It was obvious Marissa had some big trauma in her past.
“What happened to your mom?” I asked.
