She closes her mouth, then says, “Um. Yeah.”
“Huh.”
A little divot appears between her eyebrows. “I’m better than I was as a kid,” she says. “I manage to hold down a responsible full-time job now.”
And I laugh. “Good for you.”
She still looks a bit perplexed as we walk over to the living room.
“What is your responsible full-time job?” I ask as I sit on the couch.
“I’m a librarian. Actually, I’m the manager and children’s librarian at a Newark Public Library branch.”
I try not to show my surprise. “Interesting.”
She grins. “It is. I have lots of fun with the kids.”
I turn on the TV and find the game, which has already started. “Your boyfriend is the captain of the Storm.”
“That’s right. Ben Antonov. Number twenty-three.” Her smile is soft and affectionate.
“And he’s very introverted?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s so funny, though. We knew each other as teenagers and I thought he was stuck-up and rude, but actually he was just shy. I had such a crush on him back then.” She sighs.
Her obvious love for Ben is kind of charming.
“But you can’t judge people based on their covers,” she chats on, eyes on the TV, fingers dipping into the popcorn bowl. “You know what I mean.”
“I do know what you mean.” I remember at the All Star game thinking Marek was a charming sweet talker who skims through life all easy and lighthearted. I didn’t realize then that that’s what hewantspeople to think, that hewantshis life to be like that because he doesn’t want people to know the pain he’s been through.
“I’m obviously not an introvert,” Mabel adds.
Obviously.
“But Ben and I understand each other. I know he needs time on his own and it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about me, and he knows that I need to socialize. He has a safe word that he uses when we’re out and he needs to leave.”
I bunch my mouth and nod. Sounds reasonable.
“Ben says why does everyone try to force introverts to be more talkative and outgoing, but nobody ever tells extroverts to shut up? And it’s true. So if I’m babbling too much or making you anxious, just tell me to shut up.” She turns to meet my eyes and though she’s smiling, her eyes are serious. “Really.”
I nod. Like I’d ever do that. But I do appreciate her honesty. “Okay.”
“So, what do you love to do for self-care?”
The rapid change of topic might be a little scattered but my brain follows along without issue. Unfortunately I don’t have much of an answer. “I don’t know.”
She slides me a disbelieving look. “You don’t do self-care?”
“Well.” I look down at my lemonade. “Lately, caring for myself seems like the least important thing I need to do.”
“Ohhhh.” She shifts on the couch to face me more directly. “I’m sorry. But…” The corners of her mouth turn down. “Shouldn’t your self-care be themostimportant thing right now?”
My immediate response is no, absolutely not. I don’t deserve it.
“You can’t do anything for others if you don’t take care of yourself,” she says softly. “That’s why you have to put your oxygen mask on first when you’re traveling with kids.”
I nod. This makes sense. “I guess.”
