“Should we actually decide what to eat soon?”
“Probably,” Olive said.
By the time they had settled on far too much pasta, the waiter had conveniently reappeared to take their order. With the table clear of menus, Olive put an elbow on it to lean in closer to Charlie.
“Do you mind if I ask you something?” she asked.
Charlie’s stomach, which had just calmed down from its early nerves, started its looping again.
“Of course,” she responded.
“Did you mind when I called you a good girl last time?”
Charlie was glad she wasn’t drinking anything, for she would’ve surely choked on it. Was this a conversation to be having in public?
“I mean, you can call me whatever you want…” Charlie trailed off.
Olive laughed and reached out for Charlie’s hand, which Charlie happily gave.
“No, I don’t mean about the bedroom talk. I mean, are you okay being referred to as a girl?”
Charlie thought about the question some more. “I guess?”
Olive shook her head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, I’m just good at reading people. And I think you probably have more in common with Blake than you realize.”
“Oh.” Charlie was unsure how to respond to that. This clearly was a question about gender, which was a topic that Charlie had not allowed herself to think about. Any grand realization that involved not being able to play on a woman’s team was likely out of the question.
“Sorry if that was out of line,” Olive hastily added. She squeezed Charlie’s hand for emphasis. “I’m asking because I want to know more about you. All of you.”
How could Charlie not fall for Olive when she said stuff like that?
“I know,” Charlie said, meaning it. “I mean… I did see this meme once that compared gender to a religion or spiritual practise. I guess the best way I can phrase it is that I was raised to practice womanhood but I’m a non-believer now. Maybe when I retire from sports, I can think about it more seriously.”
“That makes sense,” Olive said. “We can talk about it another time if you’d like, I just want to make sure I’m being respectful to you and calling you by what you want to be called.”
Charlie nodded and lifted her hand away from Olive’s to take a sip of her drink. It was socaringthat Charlie didn’t know how to even respond. She had never had anyone ask her about it, or even acknowledge that maybe it was a thing they should be talking about. For some reason, that made her tear up. For the self she could not be quite yet, and the person that Olive was already seeing before Charlie herself could start to acknowledge it.
“Let’s talk about something else,” Charlie said when she finally calmed down a little. “I feel like that’s enough deep conversation about me. What about you? What’s your suppressed trauma?”
“Hmm, where should I start?” Olive said, as if considering the question carefully.
“What about your last relationship?” Charlie supplied. It was what she was most curious about, and she didn’t want to waste a chance to ask about it.
Olive sighed. “What is there to say…? With this one as with the last one, I was putting in the effort and planning everything, though I really was too busy with work. I was the one who would come to her with a bowl of soup when she was sick. I was the one trying to learn everything about her and she… let me. I guess I’m just tired of being in relationships where I’m the only one who’s invested. She couldn’t even pretend to like me long enough to come on this trip with me…” She trailed off, and Charlie could see what it wasthat she wasn’t sharing. Olive was used to feeling unappreciated in a relationship, that somehow, maybe she was worried that it was because she was unlovable or undeserving in some way.
“I can’t believe that,” Charlie said.
“That she didn’t want to come on this trip?”
“Well, yes. But more so that you think you’re unworthy of love.”
“I never said that,” Olive replied, but Charlie recognized the look in her eyes. It was the look she’d surely had a few minutes ago, when something hit too close to home and you didn’t want to talk about it.
This time, it was Charlie who reached a comforting hand to Olive.
“You know you’re someone’s dream person, right?” Charlie said. It took her a great deal of effort not to say that person was herself.
“I’m starting to consider it,” Olive said, the smile on her face a clear indication that she suspected what Charlie was thinking.
