Enough with the preamble. I went in for the kill. “Do you think you have to succeed at something entirely and right away or else you’re forever a failure?”
He just laughed. “You’ll have great conversations with my dad.”
“Your dad sounds pretty smart.” His answers confirmed a suspicion that had been growing. “You’re not a quitter, Bas.”
He scoffed. “I believe you just laid out all the evidence I am.”
“There’s a huge difference between quitting something and making it work for you in a way that doesn’t conform to someone else’s expectations. You’ve taken detours, but that’s the nature ofa curious mind.”
“Flattering.” He scratched his neck.
“You’ve found a vocation you loved and stuck with it despite how it’s forced you into a specific job you hate. You’ve fought against your family’s coercion to carve a path as unique as you, and that takes conviction.”
“Wow.” He sat back with his wineglass, a smug grin forming. “That’s a much better story.”
“Dr. Rubin has tried to get me to flip things around to view them in a more positive light. I guess it’s easier to practice it on someone else.”
“Speaking of practice…” He narrowed his eyes, and I knew it was my turn in the spotlight. “Why do you consider it practice when you try new things?”
I gave a slight shrug. “I guess it makes it easier to face failure. Or rejection.”
“You know life doesn’t get a dress rehearsal, right? It’s all a live performance all the time.”
Damn. “Not terrifying or anything. Is that some Greek proverb?”
He laughed. “No, but actually, the phrase ‘The world’s a stage’ is originally Greek.” He said something I presumed to be Greek. It was too sexy when he spoke like that, and I made a note to get back to my Rosetta Stone lessons. He translated, “The world’s a stage, so learn your part, but don’t take it too seriously or risk a broken heart.”
“Aha!” I clapped my hands in glee over this revelation. “That must be your philosophy.”
“Why?” His eyes twinkled with mirth. “You just got through telling me I’m not as frivolous as everyone always claims.”
“You’re not, but you’re always ready with a joke and a smile.” He really was the antidote to my worst moods.
When we finished eating, I settled back into the love seat witha second glass of wine, ready for my own time in the hot seat. “If you want to really know me, I’m going to have to tell you all about my childhood. I need you to understand what the fuck you’re getting into.”
He nodded. “I want to hear it.”
“Where should I begin?”
“Start with a good memory.”
And so I let him ask me anything he wanted to know about my own internalized beliefs, about my parents, about my hopes and dreams. We talked well into the night until I started to yawn, and he checked the time on his phone.
“Shit. I have to work in the morning.” He stood to go. “Can I give you a hug?”
“God, yes.” I met him at the door and let him wrap those comfortable arms around me.
Before he left, I said, “Thank you, Bas.”
His face lit with that easy humor. “For what?”
“For being you.”
In unburdening myself, I’d let go another piece of my anger and shame. I might have lost both my parents, but now, between Elizabeth and Bas, I had two allies on my side.
Chapter Twenty
Basil
