“I might be, but I brought you food either way.”
She silently opens the bag, grabbing a chip and popping it in her mouth. “What is it with you and food either way? Always something. God forbid a girl doesn’t want to be nourished.”
“My parents say you need to be fed in order to do anything important—think, live, breathe. I know it’s a sore subject, but I just want to make sure you’re taken care of.”
She takes another chip into her mouth, but she still doesn’t show me the Riley I’ve come to know.
“Good girl,” I add, just to see if that’d do it. But it doesn’t. She just takes another chip.
I take a seat across from her and wait for her to eat, which she does, without talking or moving or anything. She’s still, so unnatural for her. She’s breathing, but she’s not here, fully retreated inward, lost somewhere in her beautiful brain.
What’s going on in there, Firefly?
Let me in.
Shine me a little light so I know what I’m working with.
I don’t push her, but I don’t move. I want her to know I’m here.
Sometimes, someone doesn’t need you to do a lot or talk. They just need you to be. It’s something I’ve learned from Lucas. He’s the youngest in our family and one of the youngest in his group of friends. He’s the quiet guy, but everyone knows they can count on him. When everything went down with my divorce, and then shortly after with Oliver’s wife passing, he told me how the best thing we can do for someone going through it is to remind them we see them and that we’re here.
I seeher, andI amhere.
“Are you gonna sit there and just stare at me?” she finally asks, color returning to her cheeks, still grouchy.
“I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”
“Well, silence is really annoying, so, like, just don’t stare at me,” she adds, pushing the bag onto the coffee table. “Thank you for dinner. I think I was hangry.”
A chuckle escapes me before I can reel it back in and she narrows her eyes at me. “Still hangry? I can get you more stuff. Do you want to ride into town with me?”
She shakes her head. “No. I’m just...” She collapses on top of the arm of the couch, hair spilling over it, her feet landing on my lap. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I feel like a dummy for making such a big mistake. I’m so careless.”
“Now Riley, that’s where I’m going to stop you, because you’re anythingbutcareless. You made a mistake. That’s it.”
“I’ve made so many in my life. More than good things, and I—” She lets out a breath, eyes still closed. “Am I ever going to learn to be useful? I’m too old for this shit.”
Old? Who has hurt her this deeply when she thinks she’s this useless, careless human? “You’re twenty two years old. You are supposed to make mistakes. That’s how you grow. That’s how you learn.”
“Says the most put together man.”
I laugh, a deep, throaty laugh. “I am not put together.” I restmy hand on her thigh, willing her to look at me. She does. “I’ve had my fair share of mistakes. Nobody goes through life without them, whether they own them or try to hide behind them. You’re supposed to make mistakes. And some of them are costly, sure, but most of them are reversible.”
Her eyes somber as I continue. “You’re being so hard on yourself, and I understand how this may feel like the end of the world right now, but it’s not. You’re healthy and alive, the camp is not bankrupt yet. There is time to work things out.” All things I wish someone would have told me forever ago, when I thought my life was over because I didn’t pursue a baseball career or because I ended my marriage. I didn't fail because things didn't work out, and she didn’t either just because she ordered too many supplies.
I squeeze her knee gently, letting her know I’m here. “I didn’t want to overstep when Lilly was talking to you, but she 100% was out of line. You’re not a child. You’re an adult, and you made an honest mistake. You’re human.” Her lashes kiss the top of her rosy cheeks, so I add the thing I know to be true that she might need to hear again. “It’s a beautiful thing.”
She refuses to open her eyes as she whispers, “That’s who I am, apparently—a beautiful mess. Hard to handle, hard to keep.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Firefly. You’re more than the sum of your mistakes, and you’re not hard to handle or keep. Nobody should want to do that either way. The most beautiful things in life are wild and free.”
“But I’m tired of being wild and free, Dom. I want to be rooted and grow strong in a place where I belong, grow where I’m planted.” She holds my gaze this time, pure sadness in hers, and I hope she finds comfort in mine. “I just haven’t been able to find where that is. I thought maybe traveling and going to other places, exploring, seeing, living... Hell, I did it for so long.”
She sounds so hurt, and I want nothing more than to take her pain away. I can’t, even though it kills me, but I can listen. I can be here.
For her.
“Months,”she continues. “I hid it from everyone else becauseI was waiting to find that moment when I could finally feel like I belonged. But I never did.”
