“It’s alright,” I said. Somehow, my default setting was comforting everyone else about my mental illness. “I’m still here, despite my best efforts.” I gave him a smile, lightening the mood with a joke that landed like a wet towel, his eyes hard as glass.
“What do you mean?” His voice was low, almost a growl, and it set me back on the defensive.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I’m fine. It was months ago now, and it’s not like it was a real attempt or anything. I didn’t even have to go to the hospital.”
“Constance.”
He was still on his swing, muscles locked, and I felt ashamed. Here was a guy who watched his dad die slowly from disease beyond anyone’s control or ability to heal, and I played with my life like it was trivial. I just started rambling, trying to get him to understand, praying he wouldn’t hate me for the recklessness of my past.
“I couldn’t go through with it. I called Lilli, and she came over and stayed with me so I wouldn’t change my mind and then walked my ass to therapy.” Eric’s eyes were closed, and he wasn’t stopping me, so I kept going. “I wasn’t suicidal, I just thought about it a lot. It’s intrusive, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.”
“But you do now?” Eric was still tightly wound, something in the furrow of his brow that showed me he was concerned, not angry. Guilt washed over me again; Eric shouldn’t have to worry about a past me, a version of myself he never met.
He stood and walked over to me, lifting me out of my swing in a bear hug.
“I can’t even imagine a world without you in it,” he whispered into the crook of my neck as he held me.
It sounded strange, considering we had only known each other for a few days, but I felt the exact same way about him.
The tides in me swelled and, as if calling out to the molecules in the clouds, it started to rain. We started laughing, chasing each other around the playground before eventually heading back to Chris’ house. We were soaking wet from rain, and there was so much said, so much more to uncover… but I felt better. Lighter. My smile didn’t feel forced.
20 – Connie – Then
The rain persisted, but I felt so secure with Eric around that I didn’t want to say goodbye for the night.
“Hey, Connie,” Lilli said. “I kind of think I want to spend the night here. Is that okay?”
“Uh, sure.”
“Do you want to take my car?”
Eric, who had been standing next to me, pitched in. “I could drive her, so you’ll have your car here in the morning.”
“Okay! Sounds great!” Lilli skipped back to Chris across the room and nuzzled next to her.
The drive back to the hotel was quiet but comfortable, like Eric and I were so used to each other’s company that we didn’t need to fill the silence. He pulled into the hotel parking lot, and I followed the sense of dread tugging at me.
“I don’t really want to be alone,” I said. “I don’t want you to go. You can come up if you want.”
His answer was a smile, his hand squeezing my thigh as he pulled into a parking space.
When we made it up to the room, he asked to use the restroom, and I took advantage of that to pick up some of Lilli’s mess. There were undergarments strewn about her side of theroom, butt least the bed had been recently remade. I sent out a silent thanks to housekeeping.
“It’s nice in here,” he said when he rejoined me.
“Yeah, it’s comfortable,” I agreed.
Eric walked over to me, his hands grazing up the sides of my arms softly. “What do you want to do?”
His voice was husky and low, and I felt something in me stir. He wasn’t pushing or pressuring me to answer, although I knew he was waiting. I tried to find words, but it was like the connection between my brain and mouth had been severed. I rested my hands on his chest to find him solid and warm.
He looked at me like I was the night sky and he had never seen a star before, and for once, I felt like I wasn’t being measured against some standard I didn’t know and couldn’t see. I felt adored. Purely admired.
He traced a finger along my temple and down my jaw before his whole hand cupped my jaw and pulled me in. When we kissed, I felt it all the way down in my toes like an orchestral swell. I wondered if I should give in to my own desires. It was clear what we both wanted. His kiss is sweet and gentle, delicate, and I couldn’t avoid wondering if it was because I opened up about my history of self-harm. Still, it didn’t feel like he found me delicate as a bomb, but rather, as precious as an antique. I didn’t know why it bothered me so much.
Suddenly, I felt that familiar wave of guilt on my heart. I yanked myself back and buried my face in his neck.
“I’m sorry,” I said. Sorry for how I pulled away, sorry for not being clear about my boundaries, sorry for misleading him, sorry for burdening him with my bullshit, sorry that I was about to do it again.
