That knocks all the annoyance from me.
I drop down to sit on the edge of the bed. “I just want to understand what happened.”
He takes a shaky breath, then nods. His hair is still damp, and chunks of it are hiding his eyes, but I know he can see me when I pat the spot beside where I’m sitting. It only takes a moment of debating with himself before he joins me.
“We were having fun,” I start. “Then that guy got involved, and I thought I fucked it up because I left you out of the conversation. I didn’t mean to, but I was getting annoyed with him and wanted to put him in his place, which, when I think back over it, there’s no way for you to have known. I’m … protective of people. It’s not only ayouthing, but I didn’t like the way he dismissed you.” I scratch at the side of my thumbnail. “I felt horrible, then you kissed me and I felt incredible, and then you ran off and I felt worse than I did before that. I don’t like being confused, and I hate the thought that I upset you. So if we’re going to be friends, we need to know more about each other.” I finally get the courage to look over at him, and he’s watching me from the corner of his eyes. “It’s okay if talking isn’t possible. You never have to say another word to me if you don’t want to. Maybe we can get by with yes or no questions. Or you can write shit down.” This restlessness prickles in mygut as Ziggy wraps his arms around himself. “I like to think I’m good at reading people, but considering what a failure all my relationships have been, maybe that’s not true. I’m tired of guessing. I’m tired of never knowing where I fuck up.” It’s possible that I didn’t realize until this moment how messed up I’ve been over all the rejection. I try and try so damn hard, and the more I’m pushed away, the more determined I am next time. Something tells me that most people don’t go into a new relationship with the aim of proving the last person wrong.
Ziggy looks like he’s about to faint, and his breathing is louder, quicker than usual.
“Not now,” I add, turning to him. “It’s okay if it’s not now or soon. I’m not going to push. As long as you promise not to be mad at me if I make a mistake, I can wait as long as you need.Anythingyou need, Ziggy.”
It takes almost a full minute of him struggling to control his breathing. All I want is to know how to help. How to react in these conversations and make things better for him. But he gets himself there, and once he does, he rests his hand on the bed between where we’re sitting and runs his pinky over my thigh.
I watch him for a few seconds. “Does that mean you’ll try?”
He’s not looking at me when he nods.
I can work with this.
Small steps.
“Are you feeling up for some questions now?”
Another steady breath and another nod.
I tap one of his Band-Aids. “Do you hurt yourself a lot?”
He shakes his head.
“You have been lately.”
He nods again.
“Can you tell me? What you’ve been doing?”
No.
I was ready for the response, even if it’s not the one I wanted. “Did … did you like hanging out today? Up until …”
Yes.
“That’s a relief. Because you can say no if you don’t want to do something. I don’t care what we’re doing as long as we both have fun.”
He brushes some of the hair from his eyes and turns to me. I’m still a work in progress, but that’s a pretty clear sign he’s not trying to distance himself from this conversation anymore.
“Ireallywant to know why you ran out on our game,” I whisper. “Could you write it down, maybe?”
His expression gets dark. “No.”
The fact that he forced himself to speak when he could have shaken his head is proof he doesn’t like not being able to answer me, but he’s trying to give me something. “Okay. Can you at least tell me if it’s because you were mad at me?”
No.
“You weren’t mad?”
I wasn’t.
Well, that rules out one of a million things it could have been. But it’s a start.
