But Matteo’s offer of friendship wasn’t just a window into the twins’ life, it was a window into normalcy. A step in the right direction of healing and branching out of the safety cocoon I’ve built myself in the past several months. In the span of an hour, he made me feel something I never expected to experience ever again.
He made me feel like I was nothing more than a pretty girl at a party. Someone who boys wanted to dance with, women wanted to talk to, and cameras wanted to snap pictures of. A person who people would look at to compliment her dress or envy her hair—not to wince with pity while thinking about the awful thing that happened to her all those years ago.
I can’t even remember the last time I thought about being pretty before he said that I was. More than once.
Matteo
Besides, it’s a judgment-free zone here. That’s what friends are for, right?
I stare down at Matteo’s last text, feeling reassured but contemplative all the same. I don’t really know how to reply to him, and I have a feeling that might be a running theme for me. At least until I get used to this change.
I haven’t had a friend in a long time. I used to have plenty of them. Girls at ballet, my cousins, other mafia daughters in our territory…but nothing after I ended up admitted to the hospital for months. My friends were never boys either. Having a Pakhan for a father and two protective older brothers meant boys were enemy number one and kept away from me at any event.
Ironic that boys were never the real threat. Men were.
Deciding that I’ve taken too long to stare at his message, I start typing and hit send. If I overthink every single reply, the anxiety will eat at me, and Dad will notice. He’ll erase Matteo’s contact before I can blink if he thinks that our communication is doing more harm than good.
Anya
I’ll have to take your word for it. But no judgment on my end either, I think.
Looking up from my phone, I lift my face to soak up the morning sun. The warm rays and slightly cool air are a familiar feeling. Sitting outside on the patio in the morning has been a part of my routine for months now. Waking up early isn’t required, but I prefer the sun when it isn’t so high and bright. I’ve come to enjoy the way the morning is soft and serene outside.
Vitamin D is a natural medicine, according to all my doctors. Getting sunlight in can help with a lot of things—especially where mental health is concerned. So far, I’d say it’s been beneficial. I do feel less on edge during the days that I take an hour to eat my breakfast and settle in outdoors. Though, it could be the medicine working, too.
OCD likes routine, too. And sometimes routine can be laced with compulsions, but I wouldn’t consider any of mine to be worrisome. I make sure to wear sunscreen and shoes, and I always make sure wherever I’m sitting is free of debris or bugs before sitting down. Shoes are the most important, I think. The idea of my bare feet touching the dirty ground, even pavement that is washed regularly, makes my skin crawl.
My therapist says that my obsessions lean more toward the direction of contamination OCD. I’m convinced that I’ll get sick or worse, die a painful death if I come in contact with germsand don’t immediately wash them away with hot water and soap. Sometimes I wash my hands so many times that they go dry and I have to apply lotion just to feel comfortable touching anything again. She hasn’t said it, but I know Dr. Tiffany thinks that these fears are a result of feeling dirty because I was almost killed before. PTSD rewired my brain, and now dirty equals death.
I’ve made strides with her help, but I’ll never be healed from these afflictions. Not completely.
Matteo
Ooooh, judgment-free zone? Is this where I tell you all my darkest secrets?
My heart gives a funny thump, reading the message. My fingers move over my keyboard before I can stop them.
Anya
Well, you already know mine.
I can’t believe I just sent that.
I can’t believe I just sent that and I’m not throwing up.
I don’t feel sick to my stomach at all, actually. I feel like I’ve just lifted a weight. Addressed the elephant in the room. Threw all of the cards on the table.
Matteo
I wish I didn’t. I wish no one ever knew without you telling them yourself.
I inhale sharply, almost feeling his sincerity from the screen.
Matteo
We never have to talk about anything you don’t want to talk about. But if you do want to talk about it, I’ll be here to listen.
Relief washes over me at his response. It’s so kind that my eyes sting with unshed tears.
