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“I understand what you’re saying.”
After a pause, he admitted, “Plus, I’d feel like a failure if I had to quit because I couldn’t handle the job anymore.”
I leaned back a little, so I could meet his gaze. We stopped dancing, but we still held onto each other. “If someone on your crew injured his back carrying a piece of equipment and couldn’t physically do the job anymore, would you think he was a failure for retiring?”
“No, of course not.”
“So, why treat mental health differently than physical health? If it was a physical injury and you had to retire because of it, there’d be no shame in that,” I said. “It’s exactly the same if you have to retire for your mental health.”
“You’re absolutely right, but there’s still a stigma attached to mental health issues.”
“I know. But are you worried about the people in your life judging you, or are you judging yourself?”
“It’s not like my friends and family would think less of me if I had to quit, so I guess it really just comes down to me.” He paused before saying quietly, “I don’t know how I’d feel about myself, or what I’d do with my life if I didn’t have my job anymore. I just think I’d feel really lost.”
“Whatever ends up happening down the road, I want you to know I’m here for you, Dylan.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate that.” He drew me closer, and we began to dance again.
A few minutes later, the timer went off and I took the golden brown stromboli from the oven. When Dylan complimented me on it, I told him, “Thanks, but I really didn’t do much. The pizza dough came from a tube, the type that’s like a Jack-in-the-box and bursts open when you least expect it. My main accomplishment was only screaming a little when it startled me. Other than that, all I did was slap some cheese and pizza toppings on it and roll it up. Although I’m about to do something else that’ll probably horrify you, so mentally prepare yourself.”
Using store-bought pesto and pizza sauce, I quickly painted most of the stromboli green. Then I painted the round ball at one end with the red sauce, added two slices of pimento-stuffed green olives for eyes, and stuck on a pair of antennae I’d crafted out of thin bits of celery. Dylan burst out laughing and exclaimed, “It’s the hungry caterpillar from the children’s book!”
“Oh good, you recognized it. That was the only cute thing I could think of that’s shaped like this. And I know it’s super juvenile, but I just wanted to make it fun.”
He seemed sincere when he said, “I think your creativity is absolutely wonderful.”
The pizza roll ended up being pretty delicious. I followed it up with dishes of ice cream I’d decorated with banana slices, sprinkles, chocolate chips, and colorful cereal, to make them look like teddy bears. We capped off the meal with two mini donuts from my gorgeous bouquet, and then we went back to the kitchen and finished the last of the dishes.
When we returned to the living room, we both took off our shoes, and then we stretched out together on the couch. Dylan wrapped his arm around me and kissed my forehead before saying, “This has been a perfect evening.”
I grinned and told him, “It has, and it’s not even close to over yet.”
16
Dylan
As we got comfortable on the couch in Lark’s living room, I said, “Thank you, not just for the meal, but for making it an experience.”
“Thanks for going along with it. I know ninety percent of what I do is silly and childish. The word my parents always used for me was frivolous. It meant a lot to me to just get to be myself.”
“It sucks that anyone ever tried to dim your sparkle. I promise I’ll never do that to you.”
That seemed to make him happy. Lark was all smiles as he put his head on my chest and draped an arm and a leg over me. I was stretched out on my back, and he was curled up at my side, in the crook of my arm. That felt like the most natural place in the world for him.
It surprised me that all of this was so effortless. I felt right at home in this house, only partially because it reminded me of my childhood home. But more than that, I was just really comfortable with Lark. He was an amazing man, and I felt good when I was with him—happier than I’d been in a very long time.
Whatever was happening between us only became difficult when I thought about the past or the future. One came with pain and guilt, and the other brought uncertainty. But as long as I let myself live in the moment, I could do this. I could be with Lark and enjoy myself and his company, and I could let myself relax.
I stroked his hair as he told me about some of the other ideas he’d had for dinner. After a while, he looked up at me with vulnerability in his wide, dark eyes and asked, “Will you spend the night with me, Dylan?”
Before I could even think about it, I said, “I’d love to.” There was definitely a risk of us getting too serious too fast, and I knew I wasn’t ready for that. But I couldn’t say no, and not just for Lark’s sake. The idea of spending the night with him in my arms sounded like total bliss, and I didn’t want to deny myself.
“Awesome!” A gorgeous smile lit up his face.
“Is there someplace nearby where I can pick up a toothbrush and a few toiletries?”
“There’s a cute little bodega just a few blocks from here. Want to go for a walk?” When I told him that sounded like a good idea, he got up and grabbed his shoes. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he said, before dashing out of the room and up the stairs.
