“Everyone has worth. Everyone has something to contribute. I know your dad would be super proud of you.”
His eyes lift to mine.
I hold up my hands. “I’m not trying to guilt you by bringing your dad into this,” I quickly say. “Like I said, it’s up to you. But I know your dad would want you to move on with your life. He would want you to be happy, whether that means winning the art contest, or having a girlfriend one day.”
He leans forward and rubs his hands down his face.
“I’m sorry, Damian.” I rest my hand on his shoulder. “I don’t mean to be in your business. It’s just that I know what it’s liketo feel guilty for living. I don’t remember my brother and sister well, and I have no idea how I took their deaths, but there were times in my life when I questioned why I lived and they died. I felt inadequate compared to them and thought my parents would have preferred I die, but that’s not true. We have no idea why these things happen, whether they’re meant to be or not, whether they’re for the best or if that’s what we just tell ourselves to feel better. But what I do know is that we can’t change the past. The only thing we can do is be the best version of ourselves and do good in the world. Sorry if I sound like a shrink or something,” I add with a light laugh.
He lowers his hands from his face and wraps his arms around me. “No, that’s okay. You’re right about everything. Maybe I just needed someone to grill it into me.”
“I’m not saying you have to change overnight. Everything is a process. And you certainly don’t have to enter the contest if you don’t want to. Just make sure you’re doing whatyouwant to do. And not out of fear or anger or not wanting to disappoint anyone. Listen to your heart.”
He searches my eyes and nods. “Thanks.”
I lay my head back on his chest, and we just sit in silence, listening to each other breathe and our heartbeats. I would stay with him forever if I could, but his mom will come home soon and I doubt she would be thrilled to find me in his arms like this.
“Text me all night if you want to,” I say as I slip into my coat. “I’m always here for you.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll sketch and go to sleep.”
“Okay. Good night, Damian.”
“Good night, Sophie. And thank you for everything.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Damian
I’ve been up for hours.
The conversation I had with Sophie yesterday plays over and over in my head. Not only the words, but the way I held her in my arms. The way she looked into my eyes with nothing but care. For me. I haven’t felt an ounce of care from anyone since my dad died. Her looking at me like that made me feel like I actually mattered in this world.
I wasn’t prepared to open up to her. But after she poured her heart out to me about her brother and sister, I felt like I wanted to share the pain that’s taken a permanent residence in my heart. I knew Sophie might be the only one in the world who would understand what I was going through. I had a feeling she lost someone in her life because of that time I caught her crying in the library.
From her expression, I knew there was so much she wanted to say to me, but she didn’t want to overstep. She was right about everything. That I don’t want to move on with my life, that I don’t think I can be happy when my dad is dead. But my dad would want me to move on and be happy. He would want me to look forward to the future, to maybe even meet someone special one day. Maybe someone like Sophie.
I shake my head. I shouldn’t be thinking about her like that when…
I wish I could be closer to someone. Closer toher. Ever since my dad died, I thought I could never be close to anyone, let alone have a girlfriend. But maybe I’m ready now. Sophie has shown me that maybe I’m not as messed up or broken as I thought. Idohave worth. Idomatter.
Not that she and I could ever…
She’s not looking for a relationship. She made it perfectly clear that the only boyfriend she wants is a book boyfriend. But if I do want to get close to someone—possibly her—I have to share more of myself. I can’t hide behind my pain or my fear and just wait for life to get better. Because the truth is that my lifehasgotten better, all because of Sophie. I might not have a good relationship with my mother, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be happy. I should look forward to the moments Sophie and I spend together. Because that’s when I’m the happiest.
And another thing that makes me happy? My art. Maybe I’m hesitant to share that part of myself because it would make me vulnerable, especially because my dad was a huge part of my art. He claimed he was my number one fan, and he used to hang up my drawings all over the fridge when I was a kid. He still did it when I was older, despite my protests. He promised me my work will be out in the world one day. I thought he was just being a proud dad, but maybe my artisgood enough to be out there in the world. And even if it isn’t, my father would still be so proud of me. Is he looking down at me now and hoping and wishing I would enter the contest? If he were alive, he would encourage me to submit my work and he would claim I would win. If I don’t want to do it for myself, at least I can do it for him.
So even though it’s five in the morning, I open the school app and work on the application for the art contest. I need to attach a few samples of my artwork with the application, but I’ll have to think about that part later.
After trying to get in some more sleep and failing, I get up and flip through some of my old artwork, particularly the ones Dad loved. I’m so engrossed in it that I don’t realize when the sun comes up and my alarm blares. I’m nowhere closer to choosing an art piece to submit to the contest, but I feel a strong connection to my dad. Maybe he’ll somehow help me choose the perfect piece.
Mom isn’t in the apartment when I leave my room. I’m happy about that because I feel too emotionally drained after my discussion with Sophie and I’m not sure I could put up with her. I hope I can get through the day without thinking about my dad every thirty seconds.
Breakfast goes by okay. Sophie waves at me from where she sits with her friends, even gestures for me to join her. But like the previous time, I shake my head. I know her friends are as kind as her, and I know they’ll be welcoming, but I’m still too emotionally drained. Plus, I don’t know if I’m ready to be social. One step at a time, right?
By the time the day comes to an end, I’m feeling much better about everything. The lesson with Sophie goes by way too fast. It’s like the more I want to grab on to whatever time we spend together, the faster it slips right past me. So when she and I are gathering our things, I say, “Can I show you something?”
“Sure.”
