I did it with all of the doors locked—stairway door, exterior door, bathroom door—and with my phone powered off and the lights low in the bathroom, butI did it.
My hair is combed and knot-free.
I’m wearing fresh clothes that someone left in a basket by my door yesterday.
And I smell like a human again.
Heath must’ve encountered things I can’t comprehend in his EMT days, considering that he didn’t make any faces or ask me if I was part cave troll.
I force myself to imagine the horrific things he would’ve come across rather than remember how solid his body was when I hugged him—which I shouldnothave done without asking first—or how he nearly instantly eased my mortification at realizing he’d overheard my conversation with my parents.
How easily he told me I wasn’t alone.
That I’m far from the first person to be this kind of a mess when they get here.
And that my parents don’t deserve me.
I’m more than a little rocked right now.
Family’s supposed to be there for you at your lowest.
Some parents want bragging rights, not kids.
I had friends, one ex-boyfriend even, who’ve implied the same. But I wasn’t ready to hear it.
Here—here, Ineededto hear it.
And having a man that I punched in the face tell me that I’m worthy, that I deserve better, that I deserve acceptance and peace from my family, even if he didn’t use those exact words—it’s like my world is both tilted sideways and also right side up for the first time in my life.
I thought going viral broke me.
But I was wrong.
Part of me was always broken. Going viral—it forced me to see how much about my world was wrong.
The way I’ve always felt like I don’t fit into my family.
The fears that my life wouldn’t be worthwhile if I didn’t get back to real journalism and win Pulitzers.
The insecurities that I’d never win in this unspoken competition with my sisters to have the most to show off.
Today, I’m facing my fears and insecurities.
Starting with journeying across the fields back to the main house.
The landscape’s beautiful. It’s a mix of rows of grapevines, green hills rising up to meet mountains in the distance, and lingering wisps of fog as I let myself out of the apartment and start toward the house.
“Cricket!” a little voice cries before I’ve made it very far.
I suck in a breath of courage, then look back and smile at Lavender, who’s wearing a green dress printed with kitten paws.And also still the whiskers drawn on her face, though they’re lighter today. “Good morning.”
Heath’s trailing her, his long strides keeping up with her skip-dance-hop journey.
He nods to me.
“Thank you again,” I say awkwardly while Lavender flings herself at me and hugs me around the waist. “I washed your coffee mug. I’ll bring it back later.”
“No rush. Got plenty.”
