The new system is still hard to use, even though I’m getting used to it. So what if I fuck up planting the field? There’s no room for mistakes here. I’m learning how to trust this new program, but I don’t know if I trust myself to use it. I still get stuck looking for things that should be easy by now, and overriding still feels like a choice that could result in a fuck-up.
And if Idofuck up… it’s over.
This field needs everything to be right. But what if I can’t get it right? What if it needs something I can’t find and can’t give it? What if I can’t trust the tools enough to do the job the way it needs to be done? What if I do it all wrong, and what if the answers are right here in front of me and I can’t see them, because I’m not able to?
Or because I’m not letting myself.
My eyes close as my breaths speed up, and I grip my pencil tight, trying to latch onto something real. My therapist’s voice from this morning echoes in the background of the chaos in mymind, urging me to name one thing I can feel, one thing I can hear, and one thing I can see. Remember where I am instead of where my thoughts keep pulling me.
I swallow hard and lean into the chair, feeling it against my back, and the wood of the armrest against my palm. Birds chirp nearby in the trees, and I try to figure out which direction they’re coming from. My eyes stay closed as I listen, and an image pushes to the forefront of my mind, immediately taking over and urging everything inside me to settle.
A seemingly endless depth of soft brown with honey flecks scattered throughout, like an intricate design, pulling me in and forcing me to study every last detail. I trace each shift in shade and the darker ring surrounding it, as a sense of comfort quickly grows and takes over. I’ve spent years looking into these eyes, memorizing the faint lines and their subtle movements, and the way they so easily brighten with joy. And to see them right now, even in my mind, they shine a light on my darkness.
When my breaths even out and my heart slows, I open my eyes and look down at the blank page in my lap. Almost immediately, my hand moves, and I start sketching.
The perfect almond curve, followed by the inner circle, with a darker outline at the edge. I move without thinking, automatically grabbing pencils and filling in light strokes of various browns for the iris, deepening it in layers until it’s just right, and adding shadows and light to perfectly capture the gaze I’ve relied on for so long.
I pause and stare down at Levi’s eyes, finding a sense of calm no one else has ever been able to bring me. And I can’t help but smile.
This is what it’s supposed to be like.
I hated feeling anxious and scared around him. And it didn’t make any sense. Which just made it all feel worse. But now… I know why. And it’s a really weird feeling to hear somethingso awful about what happened to me and find relief in it. That there’s a reason why I am the way I am, and that I’m not choosing to be like this. I’m not choosing to be scared of him, and to push him away while wanting him close at the same time. It hurt to hear about my life before Dad got me, but I’m also glad I did. Because it allowed me to let Levi back into my life.
And I really need him in my life.
I keep my focus on his eyes, hesitating even to glance away long enough to grab another pencil and deepen the shading. A need rises inside me that I can’t describe, like just looking at them isn’t enough. Because I want to see the real thing in front of me. And maybe even that isn’t enough. Years of missing out on this gaze gnaw at me, and a desperate feeling to make up for that lost time has me just staring into them once again.
Eventually, my gaze slides from the drawing to the report on the table beside me, and I chew my lip as I look over the charts and graphs.
Then, without letting myself think too much about it, I reach for my phone.
My heart starts thumping hard as I scroll through my contacts and stop when I see Levi Campbell.
I blow out a breath and tap on his name. A blank screen opens where thousands of messages between us used to live, and a sharp pang hits me as I stare at the emptiness. We used to share everything, from dumb jokes to moments where we needed each other. And now it’s all gone.
My thumbs hover over the screen for a moment before I type out a text.
Hey
Then I hit the backspace until it’s deleted. ‘Hey’as a first text after four years? The fuck…
I start tapping out another one.
What’s up?
Then I delete that one too.
Fuck. I’ve texted him so many times in my life. Why does it suddenly feel like nothing I say is… enough?
Hey, what’s up?
And delete.
For fuck’s sake.
I forcefully rub a hand over my face and look down at the drawing again. Even though I only drew his eyes and nothing else, I can see his easy half-smile in them. The one he wears when he’s listening to me tell a story, or when he tells me I can handle the hard things in life. The one that brings immediate warmth into his already warm eyes and makes me feel calm and comfortable, and… happy.
It’s Levi.
