‘I appreciate the pep talk.’ His face remains as unreadable as always.
‘Anytime.’ I awkwardly pat his shoulder, attempting to maintain this pattern of physical contact we’ve apparently established. ‘Just remember: having compassion for yourself is important.’
‘Compassion?’
‘Yes. I am a deep supporter of compassion. I used to be so ashamed of myself for not being able to cope in crowds and overwhelming situations, and shame is just… it’s a killer. Shame eats you alive.’
He sighs again. ‘That’s definitely true. I’ve been beating myself up for the last year about Max and can’t really find a way to stop or overcome it because I’m still so ashamed to even reach out to him.’ He huffs a quiet laugh. ‘I think that might be the first time I’ve even admitted to myself that I’m actually ashamed.’
His voice is so quiet. My hands ache to touch him but I resist.
‘I’m sorry,’ I murmur. ‘That all these events made you feel that way. I don’t think you have anything to be ashamed of.’
He just casts me a patient smile, and I can only imagine how I look in this hideous light.
‘You know, you’ve been incredibly kind to me,’ I say. ‘I kind of wish you could do the same for yourself.’
‘What do you mean?’ he asks, his brows furrowed.
‘Well, being kind to yourself is the most important thing I’ve learned,’ I say gently. ‘Above everything. Turning away from your feelings achieves very little. Youhaveto feel them. I try to be a good host for my feelings now, if that makes sense. And your feelings should come and go as they please. Guilt, shame, anger… whatever it is.’
Elliot watches me, unblinking. There’s no mocking lift of an eyebrow or smirk. I feel compelled to continue.
‘If you don’t make them welcome and let those feelings in, ironically they’re going to want to stick around for even longer. It sounds weird, but you almost need to acknowledge them so you can reallyfeelthem. And then they can start to see themselves out and you can get on with your life.’
‘When did you learn this? At school? When people weren’t kind to you?’
I pause and absorb the question, fiddling with my sleeping bag between my fingers.
‘I don’t know, I think at that stage I was just learning to survive. It also takes a while… it’s like a skill that you improve or a muscle you strengthen. Remembering to not punish yourself for how you react to things. I’m not saying it’s easy, but it’s possible. Therapy is great – I know there’s stuff that’s tough to uncover alone – but it sounds like you need to let your family help you.Trustthem to know you can be honest with them. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about when someone mistreats you.’
He remains silent, and I feel the need to backpedal for some reason. Like maybe I’ve overstepped.
‘I don’t know. Maybe I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about because we barely know each other. But from experience… you might want to start with that.’
My lips curve into a hesitant smile. He stares calmly at the top of the tent until he speaks quietly in his low rasp.
‘Thank you, Nora.’
By the tone of his voice, I gather that he probably needs a moment and decide to shut up. I have a horrible, immovable urge to pull him into an embrace and wrap my arms tightly around him, but I definitely can’t do that. So I lie back down next to him and ever-so-carefully rest my temple against his shoulder, Elliot remaining perfectly still. We lie in a comfortable silence for a while, distant bass and muffled screams of crowds all around us until he breaks it.
‘You think we barely know each other?’ he asks, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
‘We met two days ago?’ I counter.
‘Is that relevant?’
‘Yes, of course it’s relevant,’ I huff.
‘Fine,’ he replies after a pause. ‘Then consider yourself the person I know best out of the people I hardly know.’
For some reason, my heart does a tiny somersault. I breathe a laugh but can’t quite find a response.
And then, after a minute, I feel his head slowly lower to rest on top of mine without a word.
28
SUNDAY
