“I don’t need to talk to someone about my dead sister.” I’ve gotten a crash course on handling grief. I’m good. “And I’m not wasting my breath speaking about Cade. I just want to be able to talk about myself like a normal human being.”
“How are we defining normal human being?”
I shoot her a look, not appreciating the humor.
But Adeline isn’t kidding. “You want to be better at icebreakers, or are we talking intimacy issues?”
I snort thinking that is also a joke.
It’s not. “Sharing your soul with someone is scary,” she says. “Learning to talk about yourself comes in waves. It’s chatting with new friends and telling old friends what’s going on with your life. Getting to know a person on a dating app. Letting in a new potential love match.”
That all sounds like a lot.
“All of those can be scary,” she explains. “And if you’re notused to talking about yourself, it can feel physically hard to do so.”
Lennie is the nervous Nellie in her family, but Adeline’s last words sound like she’s struggled to use her own limbs before.
I think about the swell of nerves when someone asks me to speak. How my tongue doesn’t work. It feels glued to the top of my unmoving mouth.
“How do you get it to not hurt?” I ask quietly.
“Practice.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
She takes her time thinking. “Every time I see you, I’m going to ask you a question, specifically about yourself. An event, an opinion, your favorite childhood memory. I’m not going to be that person who forces you to talk about something you don’t want to. If you don’t like a question, just tell me you want a new one. But no matter what, you have to answer at least one question for the day.”
I mull this over. It sounds both hard and not hard.
“Okay,” I agree slowly, knowing I need to do this. It’s like exercise. I hate it, but it’s important.
I’ll train my body not to clam up when it comes to talking about myself.
“You think you can answer a question today, or do you need time to get used to the idea?”
“No, ask me a question.”
She’s already got one ready. “How did you meet the Ghost?”
“But that’s not really a question about me.”
“You were the one meeting him, right? Tell me your version of events.”
“But why?”
“Because I’m nosy as fuck.” She laughs. “Lennie says she doesn’t even think Ren really knows the full story.”
That’s not quite true. “There’s not much to it.”
Adeline looks like a schoolteacher, silently telling me to continue with my report.
“I’d tracked down this guy. He liked strangling prostitutes. The plan was to shoot him.” I lift myself off the mat, curling my knees to my chest. “Only this fucker in a mask comes out of nowhere and steals my kill without a fucking word. That ticked me right off. So I chased after him, letting him know that shit wouldn’t be tolerated.”
“How did he handle that?” she asks, sitting up.
“He didn’t even stick around to listen. I think my hands might have been waving around as he got out of there.”
“Was the guy he killed connected to Marissa?” she guesses.
