“Then I guess falling in love with someone who’s into it is a brilliant idea.” Pushing off the wall, I stalk toward her. “What’s gotten into your head, Morana? Tell me. Because you’re not going to stand here, thinking that you’re acidic because you can’t help it, after you spent hours of labor and hours more of thought in an effort to help me sleep better. You’re not going to look me in the eye and tell me that you’re terrible when you are the most sincere person I know.”
“I’m no—”
“You let me pick a stuffed animal. To help me sleep.”
“So?” she snaps. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I have dozens of them.”
“Right, you do. But I picked the one on your bed. The one you were currently obviously favoring. I picked it, because I wanted something that smelled like you, and you let me. I didn’t think you would. I thought you’d call me an idiot and divert my attention to the ones that weren’t in use, but you didn’t.” Her mouth opens, but I cut her off. “You arealwaysthinking about other people, Morana. You arekind, kinder even because you are so abrasive. Your kindness isn’t cheap or face value. When you do something nice for someone, you mean it. When you say something sweet, you aren’t just gifting those words, you’re gifting the effort it took to be vulnerable and say them when it goes against every wall you normally have up to protect yourself.”
“That’s not—”
“Minutes ago,” I state, “I expressed insecurity, and you hugged me. You’re obviously going through something, but you put those feelings on pause for me. So.” I cup her face. “What are you even talking about?”
A tear falls down her cheek. “When I asked why you liked me, you did not saykind.”
“Just because that’s not a reason I like you doesn’t mean that’s not something you are. I’m the baby of this family, Morana. My parents were trash, but I still got some perks, like a lower bar for success and a mother’s plastic coddling—in between unexpected punishments. Blatant saccharine freaks me out, so kindness isn’t in my top list of desirable traits. I don’t care about it. I wasn’t raised to trust it. What I love about you is that your sharpest parts are the loud ones, the ones on display, the ones you present to the world. You’re not hiding your dark things. You’re hiding the sweetness. I don’t have to worry about what I might find under the surface. Your front isfun, and I think it’s hopelessly seductive, but your core? It’s soft. It surprises me in good ways, not horrifying ones.” Lifting her face, I hold her gaze as I catch her fallen tear on my tongue and taste the trail until I can kiss the corner of her eye. “Talk to me.”
She tenses, but she doesn’t make a single move to pull away. “I…have decided that I’m a self-sabotager. I burn bridges or try to get other people to burn them for me. There’s a bridge I burned that I’m second guessing, and the other person left a thread intact…so…I have choices to make that I don’t want to. I like you. A lot. It sickens me how much. It…scaresme.” Her eyes close. “If I’m the problem, if I’m the reason people leave, then I need to address that before I lose you…too. But to address that, I need to face emotions and character traits that kinda suck. That’s where I am today. Lost in the full recognition of thesucking.” Genuinely pained, she opens her eyes to me, pleading for me to understand.
But I can’t.
I can’t imagine Morana doing anything that would compel me to leave her.
I can’t picture it.
I cannot fathom how a man could be blessed with everything she can give and walk away from it. But, I guess, the only other guy she’s given those pieces of herself to wasn’t amanat all, but rather aboy.
I see how this woman treats my family. I see how she treats hers. She’s thoughtful to a fault. She’s considerate. She puts our needs before her own. She’s supportive, intentional, and genuine.
What she’s shown me lately hasn’t constituted self-sabotage so much as it’s been a test of my own words and a fulfillment of my own invitation. I apparentlytoldher that if she marched in on me, I’d claim her as my girlfriend. Testing that isn’t sabotage. It’s just smart. And, seeing as she is so ashamed of who she isand worried that she’s not good enough, seeing if I’ll actually do what I say in front of strangers makes sense. She just wanted to know if I was as ashamed of her as she is of herself.
She needs me to show her that she’s good enough.
It’s not burning a bridge if she had permission. It’s not making up problems; it’s cautious hope that I won’t let her down.
Ultimately, she’s careful.
Ultimately…she wants the reason that people leave her to be one she can control.
Because even if changing herself is hard, she can do hard things.
What she can’t do is stop other people from walking away when it’s not her fault at all.
“You’re not saying anything,” she whispers.
“Please tell me the thread left intact has nothing to do with the guy who took advantage of you.”
Her face scrunches, but far too much defeat lies beneath the anger in her expression. She mutters, “I’m not…that stupid. I already told you. That guy doesn’t matter, and it doesn’t really make any sense for me to mend old flings if I’m looking ahead at a relationship with you, now does it?”
It doesn’t really make sense for her to mend old relationships at all whensomeonewho wasn’t her family has clearly made her feel small, stupid, and difficult to be around. But that isn’t exactly my judgment to make, I guess. “Most gods and goddesses have multiple lovers. It’s mythologically accurate.”
“Ew.” She steps out of my touch. “I don’t know how I feel about you calling me a goddess when that’s so blatantly what your brother calls my sister. I prefer having my own thing.”
“Like…dominatrix?”
She sighs.
“Or…dearest?”
