10. My apartment is tiny—like 400 square feet. I can walk to the ocean, though.
11. My mom’s kitchen is still full of roosters. - insert your favorite dirty joke here -
12. Dad still runs the hardware store in Birch Hollow. He’s been training my cousin Andrew as a store manager so he has more time to travel with my mom.
13. The zoo in San Diego is epic—you’d love the animals. I can spend all day there.
14. I know you always found my eye color intriguing, and I found out the official term for it: sectoral heterochromia. Feel free to add that to your Fun Facts Journal (assuming you still keep it).
15. I think I’m gonna grow my hair out again. Not feeling this short cut. Need to embrace my surfer aesthetic.
16. I’ve been to a few Padres games. Not sure if I’m ready to switch my Blue Jays allegiance. I know you’re inBoston, but please don’t tell me you’re a Sox fan now. I think I’d find that unforgivable.
17. My mom gave me a photo album for graduation with a bunch of childhood pics. You’re heavily featured, of course :)
18. My neighbor’s name is Val. She’s a tattoo artist and she has this hot pink mohawk. She’s awesome. Still not the best neighbor I’ve ever had, though.
19. I have a dog, an Aussie mix named Echo. I’m training him to be a Search-and-Rescue dog.
20. My 8th birthday was the best birthday of my life.
Okay, now for the questions?—
1. I noticed you didn’t order a drink at the reunion. Is that a lifestyle choice on your part? Or just didn’t feel like drinking that day?
2. Do you have any pets?
3. What made you decide to become a nurse?
You know I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge, so I’ll make you a deal—if you respond to this letter, I’ll try another Jane Austen movie. NOT Mr. Darcy again. He’s kind of a dick (sorry, not sorry).
Love,
Cade
I could feelWhit’s eyes on me, but I couldn’t help the stupid grin that split my face as I read down the list. I beamed harder than I had in weeks. I barked out a laugh at the roosters—only Cade would remember my embarrassing attempt at a dirty sense of humor regarding his mom’s choice of kitchen decor.
I met Whit’s eyes, knowing she’d played at least a small part in this. “Thank you,” I whispered.
I slid the letter in my crossbody bag, grabbed my keys, and drove to see Cheryl.
“How’s your week been?”Cheryl prompted as I tucked one foot underneath myself and settled onto the couch.
“Better,” I began honestly.
Cheryl consulted her notes. “Looks like last time we talked a little bit about your fiancé, Brock. You mentioned that you felt like you were having trouble being your full, unfiltered self with him. Did you give any more thought to why that is?”
“I did, yeah. I look at Brock and he’s just really put together. Every part of his persona. It’s kind of intimidating sometimes. Even his friends and his sister are that way. I think I’m nervous to put my flaws out there, like maybe he won’t want me if he sees who I truly am. He knows about my diagnosis, but we don’t really discuss how it affects my day-to-day. It’s like... I’ve more or less made my peace with how different my life is going to be from here on out. But also... I don’t want to burden anyone else with that. It doesn’t seem fair.”
“Isn’t that what partners are for, though—to share our load?” Cheryl countered.
“Yeah, I guess so. I don’t really know why I feel so uncomfortable talking to Brock about my limitations or how I’mfeeling. It’s on me, really—it’s like with Brock, I’m in this happy little bubble. I put on my best face, and I set my other worries aside for a night.”
“But is that really happiness?” she challenged. “And is that sustainable, long-term?”
“Not really, no.”
I slumped, feeling a bit defeated, as I always did when I felt like I wasn’t being the “perfect” counseling student.
