How rotten was my childhood that this little bit of positive attention from them consumes my every spare waking moment? At least, that’s what it feels like.
No, seriously. That wasnota rhetorical question. How fucking rotten was my childhood?
I’m doing my best not to appear like some needy tool, but I think I’m beyond that point now. They still seem to want to be around me, even though I feel like I’m clingy, and I worry that they’ll get sick of me soon.
All of this remains unsaid. I am not a fucking ass. I do have a few ounces of common sense, and too many damn years’ experience at keeping my mouth shut.
Carter settles on the couch as I tackle assembling the next item, one of the bookshelves. There’s two of them, so I hope I can figure out the first one, damn near look like a genius for the next one, and maybe have my shit together by that point so that I don’t flub assembling the side table or the entertainment center.
Meanwhile, Susa is chatting with Carter and I’m struggling not to let my attention drift from the task at hand. I could sit and listen to them talk for hours.
We were supposed to cook dinner together tonight, but now I’m assembling this. “I’ll get dinner started,” she says.
“I can finish this after.” I start to stand, but she leans over and kisses the top of my head.
“No, I’ve got it. We still have plenty of leftovers.”
“Want some help?” Carter asks her.
“Guys, seriously, I appreciate the help today. Let me do this for you.”
“Owen gets all the credit,” Carter says as he meets my gaze. “I just loaned him the car.”
“Yes, but I appreciate that, too.”
She goes to make dinner for us while I’m struggling over the instructions for the bookcase. It’s not making sense, looking at the pieces in front of me when compared to the diagrams on the instruction sheet.
That’s when Carter softly gets my attention. “Psst.”
I look up.
He points at the piece currently frustrating me and motions for me to flip it over.
I do. Suddenly, the instructions match.
D’oh.
But Carter smiles and settles back to respond to a comment from Susa.
I mouth a silent, “Thank you.”
He drops me a wink.
I am reasonably certain, just from having known Carter over the past several weeks, that he most likely would have had everything assembled by now. That he’s letting me have this moment, and even giving me a secret assist, warms my heart.
He’s trying to help me look good for Susa.
It’s tempting to burst into happy tears at this altruistic display from him, but somehow I nut-up and make it through the assembly process. Yes, I know he’s in pain today, I can see it in his expression and how he was limping when he walked. Still, it feels like he’s centering me in this, and I’m grateful.
The first bookshelf finally goes together, and the second one in half the time, now that I know what I’m doing.
The side table, though.
Ugh.
It’s got a sliding drawer mechanism, and now I’m lost again. Carter leans over and plucks the instruction sheet from my hand when he notices my confusion, skims through it, then returns it to me. All while he’s holding a conversation with Susa in the kitchen. From her vantage, she can’t see what’s going on between me and Carter.
Carter taps my shoulder and points at items, helping me orient them and, in a few minutes, it all starts to make sense.
