‘Stupid,’ I whisper, opening my eyes to see Billie looking back at me, calm and supportive. ‘I feel so stupid. I should’ve known better, Ididknow better, and I still fell for his bullshit. I can’t believe I really thought he cared about me. He acted like he did.’
Another Kleenex pulled from the box, another Kleenex balled up in my hand, the softest, most ineffective stress ball ever.
‘Did you care about him?’
‘Yes. So much.’
I don’t need to think twice, I’ve confessed the worst of it. Supposedly smart Mia Meyers fell for a bullshitter’s bullshit. Admitting I went all in can’t make it worse.
‘If someone behaves like they care about you there’s no shame in believing them,’ Billie says softly. ‘Especially when things are hard and we’re looking for a soft place to land. Even more so if we don’t have a strong support system already in place.’
It’s the strangest concept but she’s right. That’s what Ethan was, my safe space. When everything else is rough edges, he’s the one who wrapped me up in cotton wool. I believed him because I wanted to. Because I needed to. And he made it easy for me.
‘We can talk about him if you want to,’ she goes on and I relax my grip on the Kleenex, the little white ball expanding in my hand, breathing out along with me. ‘But I’m more interested in you than him. I’d really like to try to understand why you believe some of these things you’ve said about yourself. You’re not stupid, Mia, I’ve seen your transcripts. You’re academically very gifted, you must know that. And you’ve got friends who care about you so much that when they saw you struggling, they encouraged you to get help. That’s amazing.’
‘If I’m so smart, why is everything so hard?’ I sniff, the first tear threatening to roll off my bottom lashes. ‘How come I did so badly on my first paper? Why can’t I manage one shift of bar work without messing everything up? I should never have come here, it’s just like my dad said. I was a big fish in a small pond and now I can’t keep up. I’ve wasted my time, I’ve wasted their money, I took someone else’s spot at Hemden and to cap it all off, I fell in love with a liar.’
At the last word escapes my lips, I lose my grip, tears streaming from my eyes, blurring my vision and stealing what little breath was left in my lungs. Billie leans forward and places a hand on my knee but she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to stop me. She lets me cry it out, patiently waiting until I’m able to swipe at my wet face with my collection of Kleenex.
‘If you’ll let me, I’d really like to try to help,’ she says, compassionate but not condescending. ‘I’m not promising any quick fixes or easy answers but between us, we might be able to figure out where some of these limiting beliefs came from. Anxiety can’t be conquered overnight but there are some breathing techniques that can help in the moment and over time we can hopefully work on some of the reasons you’re so hard on yourself.’
All the things she’s saying sound sensible but I still feel terrible. So guilty. Because I know she’s going to blame my parents and I’m the problem, not them.
‘It’s my fault, no one else’s.’ I scrub at my nose until the skin is sore. ‘I’m the only one to blame for my own actions.’
‘I’m here to help, not assign blame,’ Billie replies. ‘You’re my priority, Mia, not your parents, not Ethan, no one else. We’re going to put you first for a change.’
I can’t quite manage words, anything I say will feel likea betrayal, but I do find the strength to nod, very softly. Even though it still feels wrong and far away, I want that. I want to feel good about things again.
‘Do you want a glass of water or anything? I’ve got some apple juice in the fridge as long as someone else hasn’t nicked it.’
I fold the Kleenex into a neat square, the white paper smeared with black mascara. ‘No, I’m okay, thanks.’
‘Well, if you’re ever not okay, I want you to say so.’
Head down, I nod. ‘I’ll try.’
‘Trying is the hardest part,’ Billie says. ‘Don’t think it’s nothing.’
I’m not sure I believe her but I want to.
And that has to count for something.
51
Mia
‘Look at that, you’re a natural.’
Del quietly claps and cheers as I stamp the return date in my first book and hand it to the waiting history student, who, disappointingly, doesn’t have any sense of occasion.
‘I can’t believe you still use stamps,’ I tell him, checking the computer scan went through as well, just in case.
‘You have to, the Hemden network is about as reliable as a Ben Affleck marriage.’ He picks up one of the venti pumpkin spice lattes I brought from The Snug and raises it in a toast. ‘To Mia, my brand-new assistant library clerk.’
I lift mine in return.
‘I’m just glad you still had an opening,’ I say after a sip. I don’t care what anyone says, it’s delicious. ‘This is a lot more chill than suffering behind the bar in Members.’
