“You don’t want to be more like me, honey.”
“My new found peace of mind says otherwise.”
“That little demonstration gave you peace of mind?”
He had been looking at everything but her, up until that point—the elm tree that stood three feet from them, the scrub of grass she was still on, the stretch of sidewalk between them. Like when she’d first seen him, across the circle of chairs. But as soon as she said those words, he couldn’t keep it up. The illusion of indifference cracked clean across its perfect surface. That gaze met hers, searching, searching—asif he could hardly believe she was telling the truth. As if he didn’twantit to be the truth.
But she was only too happy to contradict him.“It gave mesomething.”
“Yeah, I think it’s called the wrong idea.” He glanced away again, face now expressionless.“Look—what you really need is to get back to the person you were. That warm-hearted girl you mentioned who could talk to anyone. Becoming like me is a backwards step.”
“It didn’t feel backwards. It felt great—to be that in control.”
“There are plenty of places that can help you get back control. That can help youbein control. And almost none of them come with an emotionally closed off price tag.”
“Maybe I don’t think being emotionally closed off is a price.”
“Well, you should. It is. And it’s a heavy one. Lucky for you though—you don’t have to pay it. Just go here, you’ll get exactly what you need.”
He took out a leather flip book from the inside of his jacket, as he spoke. The kind with a band around it, and a tiny pencil slotted into the top. Then as she watched, he jotted something down in tidy little block capitals. An address, she knew, before he even tore it off and held it out to her.
Though it was only after she took it that she realized what the address was for.
“You think I need self-defense classes?”
“I think you need a qualified person to show you this kind of thing.”
“A qualified person. Right. Right. Of course.”
“Just someone who knows what they’re doing.”
“Yeah, that makes total sense. That makes way more sense than what I was suggesting.”
“I mean, just look at me.” He spread his hands, as if to underline how obvious the problem was. Then just in case it wasn’t clear, he added, “I have no clue where to even start with something like this.”
“Totally, yeah. God, I don’t even know what I was thinking.”
“You were thinking you’d found a solution.”
“Probably. But I should have realized it was completely stupid. And rude to even ask you—I mean you have your own problems and your own shit to deal with, and I just barged right up to you, expecting more.”
“No, no. You didn’t barge at all, you didn’t—”
“And now I’m taking up a ton of your time,again.”
“No really that’s not what—”
“I’m just prattling on and on…”
“I didn’t think—”
“Thank you so much for everything, but I better just get going now.”
He went to say something more, then. She knew he did. His lips parted around the words; his hand almost sort of reached out for her. But of course, he was never going to go the whole way. He was never going to grab her. And even if he had, she wasn’t sure she could have stopped herself from walking away. Frustration was filling up her body, like a fever. It was straining the limits of her skin.
If she stayed one more second, she knew she was going to burst.
She couldn’t let him see her burst.It would look too much like sobbing, and his reaction would probably be too much like pity or guilt, and neither of those things seemed palatable.
