As he spots me, he stops what he’s doing and runs his handthrough his dark hair. He looks worried about me, which just pisses me off evenmore. I don’t need his pity. I’m a fucking grown man. I’ve been to fucking war,which is more than this whiny-ass, entitled kid can say. I’ve been getting helpfor eight years, so I sure as fuck know I can control it. No, not control it.Manage it.
Sympathetic as he acted, as he looks, I imagine him getting akick out of letting the other guys know he was there for me when I burst intotears like a wuss. Even though everything about his expression suggests hewouldn’t do that, I don’t trust him. I try to remind myself that this paranoiaI have about him exposing me is just part of the feelings that overtook meearlier. But it doesn’t make me feel any better or any more trusting of him.
My rage toward him mixes with my awareness of how fucking hot heis, and I imagine taking all this frustration out on him in the sack. Takinghis body and making him beg for me to come inside him. Dominating him so thathe knows I’m not just the weak thing he saw me as earlier.
He returns his attention to his work, wrapping up the pallet ofcrated bottles.
I approach William, who sits on the forklift, riffling through afew sheets on his clipboard. I don’t need to talk to him, but I want Jay to seeI’m perfectly capable of handling my job. I can do this. Although I wonder ifI’m proving it to him or to myself. I chat with William about some inventoryissues I’m trying to sort out. Some misplaced equipment and a couple ofshipments we’re rescheduling because of the damaged annealing machine.
I feel Jay’s gaze on me, and I’m sure he notices how I can’tkeep my clipboard from shaking. He must know it’s about my episode and not justfrom me being tired as fuck, which I am too.
I have to push through this like I learned in therapy. I runthrough a series of mantras, reminding myself I’m not in immediate danger, butit doesn’t keep my palms from sweating.
Goddammit.
***
I’ve avoided Jay for the past few days, hoping we could bothpretend my episode in the breakroom didn’t happen.
But he keeps looking at me. I can tell he wants to talk aboutit, and that’s the last thing I want. Not just with him, but with anyone. Laurasays the more I discuss it, the less it’ll feel like I’m carrying around thisburden by myself. Helpful as working with her has been, though, there are somethings I’m not ready to deal with. Some things I haven’t even talked to herabout because they leave me feeling so empty and horrible that they remind methat maybe it’s not even worth it to push through.
I stock supplies in the main storage closet, where Jay grabshandfuls of nails from a box and puts them into a plastic bucket. He’ll beworking on packing the shipments that are going out tomorrow.
I figured this would be like a normal day where he grabbed hisshit and moved on. Instead, he asks, “How’s it going?”
He’s itching to talk about it.
“Going good, Jay,” I say, shoving a couple of boxes of screwsonto the shelf as I act like I don’t give a damn. “How about you?”
He doesn’t move. Why can’t he just forget about what happenedand let us both move on with our lives? I haven’t had a serious episode likethat in almost a year. It isn’t fair that he’s caught me in two of the weakestmoments I’ve had in a very long time.
He walks to the door, and I figure I’m in the clear until heturns back around and asks, “Are we just never discussing what happened theother day?”
Tension rises within me. Beads of sweat collect on my forehead.“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“I think I deserve to know what happened. And that you’reactually getting help.”
His words sound sincere, but there’s this part of me that feelslike he just wants to know so that he can get inside my head. Know myweaknesses and vulnerabilities…to what end, I’m not sure.
I can’t let him in. Can’t let him get to me. “I have help. Beenworking on this for a long time. That was a rare incident. I was just tired.”
“Maybe you need to take some time off. You’ve been workingnonstop for the past few days.”
“Like I said, been handling this for a long time. I know when Ineed to take time off. Don’t need some newbie who doesn’t know anything aboutme or my life coming in and telling me how to run things.”
“I’m not doing that. Just…well, if you need to talk to someoneover some beers or whatever, I’m here.” I don’t think he could have found amore awkward way of saying that if he’d tried.
I didn’t take him for the kind of guy who would have reached outto help me. Closed-off. Quiet. Aggressive as fuck to anyone who pisses him off.
Just like Caleb, who put up a strong front but was the mostamazing guy I’ve ever known. The kind of guy who would’ve given a friend bothhis kidneys if they’d needed them. If Jay would show this side of himself tothe other guys, they wouldn’t give him nearly as much shit as they do. But theonly reason he’s bugging me about this is because he sees me as this feeble guywho needs assistance.
I don’t need his help. I don’t need anyone’s help. I can do thisby myself.
“I’m fine, but thanks.” My words are curt. Almost mean,considering he was being generous with his offer, but he must understand thatwe have a working relationship and that’s it.
Although I can’t help but think that it’d be nice if I couldhave more than that. Not just with the guys at work, but anyone. It reminds meof a time when I could make friends. Hang with them after work. A time when Iwas carefree.
No one ever invites me to anything anymore. I just sit alone in myhouse, dreading the world. Dreading having to come here every day. Laura’salways encouraging me to get out, but I never do.
