“Maybe so, but everyone in my life only wanted to see the positive in things. Which, I get it. Who wants to feel bad?” I ask. “At some point, I just kind of accepted it, I guess. That became my role. My siblings and I all fell into line to help our mom. For a while, it felt like it worked. I was so out of control as a teenager. My parents were clearly unhappy, and alcohol numbed me. My actions felt likesomething I could control… until I couldn’t.” I frown. “So then I started controlling my thoughts.”
“Yeah,” Hazel says. “Sounds like you suppressed negative emotions and put a positive spin on everything.”
“I didn’t want to inconvenience anyone with my stress or shame. Still don’t,” I admit. “I’m the lucky one, and I’m so grateful for what my life has become. I survived, I got opportunities, I like my work. Things could’ve turned out very differently for me.”
“Just because you’re lucky and grateful doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to feel bad,” she says. “I don’t say this because I want you to feel low. But even if you positive platitude your negative feelings away, they’ll still be there. Your issues will still be there. Recognizing when things aren’t okay—when you’re not okay—is just as important as spotting the good.” She frowns a little as she says this, her eyebrows briefly pinching together.
It doesn’t take long to recall all the problems that need fixing at work and on my own body. I still have weeks to go in this damn cast.
“Yeah. I’m starting to realize that,” I admit. From the beginning, Hazel has been here, seeing me fail, make mistakes, be my least smooth self. It all could’ve easily driven her away by now, but it hasn’t. I wrap my arm around her. “There’s more I feel bad about.”
“Okay. What else?” Hazel asks, resting her chin on my shoulder as she looks up at me. Gazing into her brown eyes brings me a sense of calm, but my next words are still filled with something strong.
“I feel bad that it’s taken me this long to tell you how wonderful you are,” I tell her. “You’re smart, and you have such good ideas, and I really like hanging out with you. Also, have I told you you’re beautiful? I feel like I probably haven’t said that enough.” I squeeze the bill of my hat as Hazel lets out a quiet laugh.
“The way you see me…” she says softly. “I’ve never really seen myself that way.”
“I wish you would. It’s one hell of a view.”
She nudges me as her cheeks pinken. Something about the honesty of her reaction makes me want to open up even more.
“Mostly, though,” I continue. “I feel bad that the other night I tiptoed around telling you exactly how I feel about you.”
She bites down on her smile. “And how is it you feel about me?”
“I feel really fucking good about you, Zel.”
She side-hugs me harder. “I feel really fucking good about you, too, Gan.”
“I feel really fucking sad about that chandelier,” Richie’s voice says, startling us both. “You know how long it took me to hang that? What happened in here?”
Hazel and I jump up to meet him.
“Chaos. It’s all chaos,” I say, grabbing the broom and sweeping up the last bits of debris.
“I swear this theater is haunted!” Richie says, grabbing the garbage bag from me. “Logan, you look like hell. Take that break. I’ve got you covered. If I see you in here this weekend, I’m reporting you to HR.”
“I want to report HR to HR,” I say to him.
Richie lifts his hand above his head as he’s walking away, likeI don’t want to hear it. “I don’t want to see you ’til Monday!”
With that parting comment, Hazel looks at me with curiosity. “You’re taking a break?”
“It’s not a break.”
“Where are you going?” she asks.
With everything going on, I must’ve forgotten to tell Hazel about Maine. “I told my mom I’d visit. I’m driving up early Saturday and coming back Sunday, so it’s a quick turnaround. I typically work shows during the holidays, so I won’t be able to visit for the rest of the year.” And since I’m on a roll, I add, “I do also feel bad that dressrehearsal starts next week and I’m leaving for the weekend at literally the worst time.”
“And you’re driving because of what Bo said, aren’t you? To avoid planes?”
“Exactly. The drive will eat up most of the time I could’ve spent there, but better to be safe.”
She nods. “If there’s no way you can get out of it, then let’s go. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “Let’s?”
“I don’t like the idea of you driving alone in a car for that long, given… you know,” she says. “I’m off from the shop this weekend.”
