She crawls onto her bed, leaning against the headboard and hugging a pillow tightly to her chest. I sit on the edge of the mattress, angling my body toward her.
“I’m s-sorry.” She trips over the word as if it’s foreign.
When she falls silent, I nod, not sure what to say. Her brows are drawn together and her mouth is turned down in a severe frown. Severe even for Celia. “This may not be the time to bring this up,” I say slowly, choosing my words carefully, “but I have to say it now before we say anything else. Do you really believe I have it easy? That I’ve always had it easy?”
Celia brings the pillow to her face and holds it there for so long I worry she’s trying to smother herself. I’m about to reach out and grab it when she groans and drops the pillow to her lap. “Of course not,” she says. “That was such a stupid, insensitive thing to say.” She groans again. I remain silent; the only thing I’d be able to say would be in agreement. Itwasa stupid, insensitive thing to say. Between my parents’ deaths and living with family who would make Siberia seem tropical by comparison, my life has been far from easy.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m good at saying the wrong thing,” Celia says, staring at the pillow in her lap. “I’m also good at hitting people where it hurts. Hittingyouwhere it hurts.” She glances up at me, then away quickly. “My parents were always telling me to be more like you. ‘Study hard like Ivy. Be a good girl like Ivy. Respect us the way Ivy respects the Chens. Be involved in school activities like Ivy.’ It made me hate you because to them you were perfect and I was just…me. Smart enough, but not driven. Shy and awkward. I wanted to be left alone most of the time, but they were always trying to force me into things, and always using you as the marker for success.”
I wince. “I didn’t know. That wasn’t fair of them.” Things are starting to make sense. Despite being far from perfect, I tried toactlike I was because it kept my aunt off my back. I worked my ass off in school and got good grades so I could get scholarships and get away from my aunt and uncle as soon as possible. That work ethic stuck with me through college and into my career.
“I hate being this way,” Celia says in a voice so pitiful it makes my heart ache. “I don’t want to be angry all the time and make it hard for people to like me. It’s just become a way of life, and I can’t seem to stop. I think…I think I’ve always taken it out on you because you’re safe. You’re like family, and no matter how awful I am or how much I push, you’re still there. You may get impatient and I think there have been times when I was lucky to escape without bodily harm, but you’re still there.”
She lets out a shaky laugh, meeting my gaze for a second. “I hoped living with you might change things. Instead, it just made me even more jealous. You’re so successful and you have your shit together. It made my own faults more prominent and I felt worse and worse about myself, and then I took it out on you. I should be locked away somewhere and not allowed to interact with other people.”
“Hey.” I reach for her hand and she lets me hold it. “Can I tell you a secret?” When she nods, I take a deep breath. I haven’t said any of this out loud, and I never expected when I did it would be to Celia of all people. “I don’t have my shit together. I just have a lot of practice making it look like I do. I have a great job that pays well, but I’m bored and restless with it. I miss Bridget like crazy, which is ridiculous because I still see her all the time, and I’m happy for her and David, but I can’t help it.”
I suck in another deep breath because my next admission is the one that scares me most. “I’m falling for Hugh, despite telling myself not to.” My eyes dart toward the door, hoping Hugh hasn’t suddenly appeared to check on us right at the moment of my confession. “The point is: I’m a mess too, Celia. If you stopped pushing me away and treating me like the enemy, we could be a mess together.”
Celia’s eyes fill with tears again and my heart sinks. I’m not sure I can handle seeing her cry twice in one night. I already feel as if my world has been turned upside down. “I really am sorry, Ivy,” she says in a shaky voice. “I’m going to try to do better. Tobebetter.” She fiddles with the corner of her pillow. “One of the girls at the Village told me she sees a therapist. I was wondering if that might be a good idea for me. To talk to a professional and find out where all this anger comes from. Maybe learn some coping mechanisms.”
“That’s a great idea,” I tell her. “You could make an appointment with your doctor and get a referral, or you might consider talking to Hugh.” Her eyes go wide and almost panicky, so I quickly add, “Not in a professional capacity. Holy awkward. I meant he might be able to help you find someone who specializes in what you need.”
She nods slowly. “I’ll think about it.” She climbs off the bed and goes to her dresser. Only now do I realize she’s still wearing her jeans and not the bottoms that match her pajama top. With her back to me, she asks, “Is it okay if I keep living here until I figure things out?” Before I can answer, she whirls around, clutching her PJ bottoms in her hands. “No pressure, but I don’t know where else I’d go or what I’d do. I keep worrying you’ll reach the end of your rope and kick me out. And yet I keep pushing you, testing you.” Her face crumples, cheeks flushing crimson. “How sick is that? I really do need help.”
I stand and motion Celia toward me. She takes a few wooden steps forward until we’re facing each other. And then I say something I never thought I’d say in a million years: “Stay as long as you need to. We’ll get through this together.”
