I sat back down and handed her the opened pint and a spoon. She smiled and signed. “Thank you,” before taking a big spoonful.
After half the container was gone, I tried again. “Want to talk about it?”
She made a disgusted face, but put the spoon down and sat up. “When I met her, she was so nice and flirty. She knew I was deaf, obviously, and seemed perfectly okay with it. She knew basic sign language, and we exchanged numbers so it was easier to communicate. Sometimes being deaf can be a great pickup line.” She gave a sad smile, but it quickly fell away.
“So what happened?” I asked, not wanting to hear it but also wanting to be there for her.
“Well, to start, she was almost an hour late, claiming time slipped away from her. I was understanding. It happens.”
Of course she was. Daisy was one of the most understanding people I knew. She had never-ending patience, and you had to really mess up if she was upset with you.
I nodded, waiting for her to continue. “It started off okay. Typical first date—ask questions, get to know them. Then she ordered two Long Island iced teas. For herself. You know I’m not a big drinker to begin with, and I try not to judge, but that’s a lot, right?”
“Definitely seems like a lot, especially on a first date. I mean, only one of those and I’d forget who I was or how to walk upright.”
“Right? Okay, so it’s not just me. Anyway, the drinks started to kick in, and she got kind of mean. She started talking about her job at the bank and how important she was. Then she asked what I did. I told her I was a freelance illustrator, and her exact words were ‘Oh, so you’re unemployed. Are you homeless too? Do I have to pay for this date? I hope you order something cheap, like a salad.’ And that’s not even the worst part?—”
I cut her off, grabbing her wrists to stop her motions. My blood was heatingup. Who did this woman think she was? “Wait, she really thinks freelancing is not a real job, got belligerently drunk on a first date, and told you to order something cheap?! Give me your phone,” I demanded. I had some very not nice things to say to this woman.
She shook her head. “No, Kai, it’s fine. I’m used to people assuming the worst about my job. What really bothered me was when she told me that she wasn’t surprised I didn’t have a job. That being disabled must be really hard, and she was happy she could help out someone like me by agreeing to go out with me. But it doesn’t matter.”
I frowned. “You’re fucking joking, Daisy! It doesn’t matter? What do you mean? Of course it matters! This woman was disrespectful toward you, and I will not stand for it! Who does she think she is, asking you on a date and then treating you like that?! That is ridiculous!”
I stood up, my hand motions fast and aggressive. I was outraged. I couldn’t stand entitled people and their ignorant views on people with disabilities. Daisy worked for herself because she wanted to, not because she couldn’t get a “real” job. I was angry at this woman and angrier at Daisy, that she wasn’t more upset. I’d take her frustration over this deflated version of her any day.
She waved her hand around to get my attention when I paced the living room, leaving a smoke trail behind me. “Kaia! Stop!” she said when I paused to look at her.
“I appreciate you wanting to be there for me, but just stop. You’re proving her right.”
“What?” I asked, brows furrowed, heart bottoming out.
She swept her arms around the room I had just paced across. “What you’re doing? Getting angry and wanting to take care of the problem? You’re proving her right. I’m not some disabled person who can’t even feed herself, Kaia. I am deaf. I’m still an adult with a functioning brain. I don’t need you to be my mother and come to my rescue. I can handle myself just fine. I have been, long before I met you.”
I gaped at her, unsure what had just happened. “You’re my best friend, Daisy. I’m always going to want to protect you. It’s?—”
She shook her head. “Just stop, Kaia! You’re not my girlfriend. It’s not your job to fight my battles. I know you just want to protect me, and I appreciate that, but you can’t protect me from everything. I am an adult. I can protect myself just fine without your help. If you want to be agood friend, just sit and listen instead of trying to fight my battles like I’m a helpless child!”
Her words stole the air from my lungs.You’re not my girlfriend. It’s not your job to fight my battles.As if I didn’t know that already. As if I needed the reminder of who I was to her, who I’d always be.
I could only blink. I wanted to tell her that I would always want to protect her no matter what. That I loved her for exactly who she was, and that I would take on every burden she ever had in her life if she only asked. Instead, I walked away, afraid I would either keep yelling or cry and admit my feelings. Neither of which sounded particularly appealing, so I left. I went to my room and slammed the door. She couldn’t hear it, but it felt good nonetheless.
I threw myself onto my bed and hid under the covers, letting the tears spill out. This wasn’t how I’d seen my day going at all. Our friendship wasn’t perfect. We bickered here and there. Before, it was mainly about Drea and how I needed to stand up for myself more. After all of that, things were better, at work and with Daisy.
We had never properly argued before, and it was the worst feeling in the world. We talked about our problems. If I ran away, she’d give me some space, but she’d come get me and we’d hash it out. We didn’t get angry like this, and we didn’t storm off.
My heart hurt and I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t know what I’d say to her, but I didn’t want to go to bed angry with her. I didn’t want to go to bed with her angry with me, either.
Several hours passed. It was nearing one in the morning, and I was still wide awake. I assumed Daisy went to bed, so I was surprised when I heard my door opening softly. I expected a little mommy’s boy to jump into bed with me, but Duke must be asleep.
I didn’t roll over to look at her, but I felt the bed dip, and soft arms wrapped around me. She used her nose to poke my shoulder, and I prepared myself as I turned the bedside light on and rolled over.
She looked as if she had been crying, too, and I almost started up again. I wiped a stray tear from under her eye, and she closed them for a moment before opening them again.
She released me, and I missed the warmth of her touch. “I’m so sorry, doodle. I?—”
I grabbed her hands, stopping her apology. “Don’t. I’m sorry. You were absolutely right. I was treating you like your date, and that’s not right. I just… You’re my best friend, Daisy. The most important person in my life. I will always want to protect you, but I know I can’t. And more importantly, you don’t need me to. It wasn’t my intention to treat you differently because of your disability. Never in my life do I want you to feel like anything less than that to me. I’m so sorry, Daisy.”
I hadn’t realized I was crying until her hands came up to wipe the tears from my face.
