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“I was in some pretty shitty situations. What the hell else was I supposed to do?”
“You are not in control of the things that happen to you, but you can control how you choose to deal with them. You always have a choice.”
I held his gaze as he stared down at me. I had always thought that I was stuck suffering from the tragedies in my life – you play the hand that you’re dealt, and there’s nothing else that you can do because it’s all out of your control. But I was not convinced of everything T.J. was saying. Not yet. I was not ready to accept responsibility for it.
“You don’t know what I have been through. You don’t know what it was like. I didn’t have a choice in anything. She left. She made the choice for me. She should take responsibility for what she did. Not me.”
“You can’t take responsibility for anyone’s actions but your own. If she’s not ready to take responsibility for her shit, then that’s on her. Don’t be like your parents. You need to get up and fight. You can’t stay on the ground curled up in a ball every time something bad comes your way.”
“I’m still here, aren’t I?”
“Drunk and barely surviving is not the same as living and overcoming.”
“No, but it’s easier,” I retorted.
“It takes more courage to stay and face your problems than it does to run away from them. Right now, you need to decide something: are you a coward, Merritt? Or are you a fighter?”
I tightened my fists. “I’m a fighter.”
“Saying it, and being it are two different things.”
“That’s why I’m coming here every day, with you. So you can teach me how to fight.”
“Okay, then.” He lowered the pad, and his eyes narrowed. “One last question for you.”
I inhaled, preparing myself for what he was about to ask.
“Do you like pizza?”
My face twisted into a confused expression. “Pizza?”
“You came here from work, and it is now seven o’clock. Are you hungry?”
“I am a little hungry,” I admitted.
“Let’s go grab a slice next door. We can continue this conversation there.”
“I don’t want to take up your time. I can just eat when I get home.”
“I didn’t say you were taking up my time, did I?” He looked at me expectantly.
“No.”
“So, let’s go.”
T.J. was so confident in everything he said, he left no room for anything else. If he said it, he meant it. Cut and dry. I liked that about him.
While I stepped back into my sneakers, he threw a shirt on over his head. I tried to keep from laughing.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, giving me the side-eye.
I gestured to what was once a t-shirt that would now barely qualify as a tank top because of how much material he had cut off. “Why even bother putting a shirt on?”
“Listen, Merritt. You’re cute and all, but I think we should keep it strictly professional for the sake of my program. You can’t be telling me to take my clothes off.”
My jaw dropped open as he walked towards the front door.
He spun around to see my reaction as he walked backwards. “What? No snarky comeback? That’s disappointing, Adams!”
