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Yeah, we should.
I close my eyes with the hope that when I wake up tomorrow, all of this will have been a bad dream.
Fat chance.
I wake up the next morning to a sun-filled tent and an empty sleeping bag.
Despite all my efforts, the events of last night slam full force into my mind.
I feel awful. Not only because of the shame seeping through me or for how awkward the rest of the trip will be, thanks to yours truly, but because I’ve put Oliver in this position.
I rub my eyes and stretch my legs. A sharp pain erupts in my left foot and shoots up to my calf.
Ah, yes. There’s that too.
Testing my balance, I press my feet to the ground very slowly. “Ow, ow, ow! Okay, no. Nope. No weight on it, gotcha.”
No weight, which means I’ll have to lean on Oliver all day. Great . . . just great.
As gracefully as the time I tried on my sister’s high heels and face-planted in her backyard, I exit the tent, but not without losing some of my hair in the zipper in the process.
Crisp air meets my cheeks, cooling my still-burning mortification from last night. Oliver is crouched over a rudimentary fire, warming up two cups of coffee, by the smell of it.
I hop the few feet to where he is, probably waking up the whole damn forest with how loud I am.
“Good morning,” he says, handing me one of the cups. “Careful, it’s hot.”
I nod, grabbing the handle. I blow once on the steamy liquid and bring it to my lips, humming at the rich, bittersweet notes flooding my mouth.
Yeah, this is definitely a coffee-needed day.
After I’ve taken a few sips, I look Oliver in the eye. “Listen, Oli, about—”
“Don’t,” he cuts in. His eyes are charged with something I can’t quite make out. “You don’t owe me an explanation or an apology. We’re okay.”
He smiles, his ruffled hair even messier this morning, and I wonder if it’s because he got up with restless thoughts too.
“Okay,” I say, my own lips stretching up, and my stomach untangles a bit.
He nods to my ankle. “How is it today? Can you walk?”
I snort. “I know you saw me coming out of that tent, and I appreciate you trying to make me feel better. I think I’ll be able to manage until the lodge.”
“We’ll take it slow. And any time you’re tired, or if it hurts at any point, I’ll take it from there.”
“What do you mean?”
He pushes his hands on his knees and stands. “I’ll take care of you.”
Pine Falls, March 9, 2018
My dear Charlee,
This letter almost didn’t make it out to you. I spotted Emile throwing my mail in the trash as I was closing the door and had to go fish it out and bring it to the post office myself before I went to class. I swear, this guy is driving me nuts. Maybe I should actually put something in his food. Then he’ll have a true reason for hating my grandparents and me.
Of course, I know what love languages are. And I’m glad you have physical touch in yours, as it is very, very important to me. Reading that you love to touch, to hug, to kiss . . . I like that a lot. Even you thinking about my hands on you is driving me insane to the point that I can almost feel you under my fingers. I don’t think it’d be a good thing for me to tell you how many times I’ve imagined roaming my hands over your body until they ached. Or dreamed of what your lips would feel like against mine.
I’d say words of affirmation is the other one for me. Being gifted comes with a lot of wondering moments. Most people I’ve talked to about this often laugh me off with “Well, how awful it must be to be good at everything you do and have a higher IQ,” but they don’t know what it truly means. They dismiss it as not being an issue, not being “neurodiverse enough,” because if your biggest problem is that you’re smart, then is it a problem at all? My neurodiversity comes with hypersensitivity, and both physical touch and words of affirmation help me understand another person’s feelings and help me confirm that I have the right read on them. I tend to overanalyze everything, and without the proper signs, I get easily lost in my endless questioning. But if you show me exactly what it is you’re feeling, what you feel for me, my mind quiets, and I am more at ease. As simple as that.
