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“That’s true,” Elliot says. “Excuse me, I’m going to run to the bathroom.”
I want to tell him no, beg him to stay. But he’s gone before I can open my mouth. I take a deep breath and look at David, who looks away when I catch him looking at me.
“How have you been?” I ask, my heart racing and nervous.
He looks back at me. “Good. Busy. Glad the holidays are over.”
“Me too,” I groan. “Does your family make it the biggest ordeal too, or is it just mine?”
“Oh mine does too.” He laughs. I smile at him and look away again. He clears his throat and I glance back at him. “I just…I wanted to apologize if I was too forward, or made you uncomfortable last month. Truly, I’m really sorry.”
Guilt, of a different kind, fills my gut now. “Oh David, no. Please don’t,” I pause, not sure how to finish my thought. “You have nothing to apologize for. Please don’t worry about that.”
He looks at me, seriously but kindly, unconvinced. He opens his mouth to say something, but before he can I say, “I’m going through, or coming out of…a really bad place.” He nods, understanding. “You didn’t make me feel uncomfortable. At all. It was me. I was just, I am dealing with a lot right now.”
“I’m really sorry to hear that, Ana,” he says sincerely. “I hope things will get better soon, that things will be good again.”
I’m reminded of a song then and it makes me smile.
Stop punishing yourself. Let yourself be happy again. I hear Madeline’s voice in my head. If it’s David you open your heart up to, great…
I take a deep breath and take a leap. It may only be a small step but it feels like I’m about to jump. “I really enjoyed talking with you that day.”
Surprise flickers across his face quickly before he schools his facial expressions. “I enjoyed talking to you too.” He smiles at me. “Even though you like olives.”
I laugh, surprised by his comment. In Spanish I say, “get over it, pal.”
“I actually tried them again, since our conversation. I really tried to like them, but I just don’t.” He chuckles, looking sheepish. I let out a laugh at his honesty, amused that he would try to like them.
“What else have you been up to, besides trying to eat olives?” I ask playfully, finding myself surprised again at how easily it is to carry conversation with him.
He smiles and says, “Not too much. Starting to get ready for the new soccer season. I play in a rec league myself. Just a bunch of adults who try to relive their glory days of real fútbol.”
I laugh. “That sounds fun,” I say honestly. “Have you always played?”
“Yeah, since I was five years old and all through high school. Actually, I got a scholarship to college for soccer. But I tore my ACL in my senior year of high school, so that didn’t work out.”
“Oh shit,” I say apologetically. “That’s awful, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, it sucked. It was a really hard time in my life.” He gives a half sad smile. “But I’m just glad I was able to heal from it. I’ll never play for real again, or obviously professionally. But I’m glad I’m still able to walk, run, live.”
My chest tightens. “Yeah. That’s a good way to look at it. Still, I’m sorry it happened.”
“What about you, what have you been up to?” he asks.
I sigh. “Literally nothing. I live a boring and lonely life.” I try to pass off the words as a joke and not as the truth they are. I didn’t even mean to say them, they just kind of slipped out—it’s too easy to let my guard down around him.
His smile falters and sadness fills his eyes. He’s still smiling, but his eyes look at me with curiosity, compassion even. It feels like he saw those words for what they really are, not a joke but my truth. “I know I’m speaking as someone who is completely removed from your life and situation, who most of the time has no idea what he’s talking about,” he lets out a nervous laugh and continues cautiously, “but you shouldn’t live like that. Life’s too short to live it in any way but at its fullest.”
I stare at him, wondering if I should be annoyed for his gall and boldness, or worried that he can see into my brain and life. I must stare at him for longer than is considered appropriate because he says, “That was incredibly out of line, I’m sorry.”
I shake my head, forcing myself to snap out of my hazy thoughts. “No, no. It wasn’t out of line. It was scarily accurate.” I look down and swallow my defensiveness. “I just spoke about that with my therapist not too long ago. It’s kind of like you plucked those words out of my mind.” True words, but always easier said than done.
He chuckles, “It’s all easier said than done, though, I know.”
My mouth parts in equal parts surprised and disturbed. I gape at him, “Can you—” I sputter, “I swear I just thought that, David. Almost word for word. Can you seriously read my mind?” I ask incredulously, only half joking now.
“I promise I can’t,” he laughs, “Just saying what I wish someone had said to me when I needed some encouragement and gentle pushing the most.”
