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His parents had come over not long after breakfast. They’d planned a whole day for us, showing me things in the city that I had no desire to see, but I would never tell them that. I appreciated it, I did. It was clear they were trying to be good hosts and get to know me, but how did people breathe here every day? How did they live with all the people, noise, and chaos?
How did Charles thrive in it? Because he did. It was easy to see. None of it bothered him. He enjoyed the hustle and bustle, which just hammered home…how could he ever be happy in Ryland? How could he ever be happy with me?
How would I be able to handle coming here regularly?
Where back home in Ryland, it put me at ease when Charles touched me, here I found myself pulling away, like feeling his skin against mine would open me up in a way only Charles could, and it would make me raw and even more vulnerable to all the feelings assaulting me since we arrived.
It got worse in the evening. We were having a birthday dinner with his folks at an Italian restaurant. They’d chosen a table outside, which meant it felt like the city was inside my head rather than at least having four walls between me and it to try and block it out. When Charles had mentioned eating inside, I’d said we didn’t have to because I wanted to be okay in this situation, when really, I wished we were anywhere but there. He would understand if I told him, and part of me figured he knew, but he was respecting my wishes, and I wanted Charles’s trip home with his parents to be fun for him.
After we ate, we still had to go to a play on Broadway. Charles and his mom both loved theater, and my only experience was when I had to go to shows at the high school back home.
The fear of ruining this night weighed heavily on me, made too much adrenaline pump through my system and my heart unable to slow down. I did my best to pay attention, to look engaged, but sometimes their words were muffled in my ears and everything around me was echoey.
“Do you like the theater?” Rhonda asked.
I fought to focus on her words, tried to look like I wasn’t about to lose it. “I’m not real sure,” I answered honestly. “I haven’t gone to many plays.”
“Do they have a theater close to Ryland?” John questioned. Again, they were trying to pull me into the conversation, trying to be helpful, but I just wished they would stop so I didn’t have to talk.
“I reckon there is. Maybe in Cloverhill. If not, we’d probably have to go closer to Charlotte.”
“Oh no. You’re going to miss going more often,” Rhonda told Charles, and chuckled. “Living in Ryland is going to be quite the change for you.”
My gaze snapped to hers because I didn’t realize she knew Charles planned to move there permanently. Did she question his decision? Wonder if he was making a mistake? I figured she likely knew Charles didn’t belong there and wondered why he would choose me over the life he had here.
“Eh, if I want to watch a play, I’ll drag Brian to Charlotte with me. It won’t be a big deal.” Charles placed his hand on my thigh, but it just felt like all his sacrifices were piling up, sitting heavy on my chest.
I gave him a tight smile. The conversation changed, and we finished our meal. I tried to pay, but his dad wouldn’t have it. When I realized how much the bill was, I nearly swallowed my tongue and was silently grateful I hadn’t had to pay it.
“You okay?” Charles asked quietly as we stepped onto the busy sidewalk.
I nodded, thankful when he took my hand and didn’t call me on what he likely knew was a lie.
Like always, the sidewalks were packed. People pushed their way through, shoved around each other, everyone so busy to get wherever it was they were going. We were walking to the theater. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. I hated the subway because I felt trapped, and hated cars because of the traffic, and hated the sidewalks because of all the people. Wasn’t I just a joy to be around?
Charles and his parents were talking excitedly about the play, when someone walked between Charles and me, going the opposite direction. Our hands broke apart. He was deep in conversation but looked over at me, and I forced a smile, willing myself to relax.
Charles turned back to his parents, animatedly explaining something that sounded like fuzz in my ears. I didn’t try to focus on what they were saying anymore, just fought to control my breathing. It kept trying to escape me, getting worse and worse as my chest tightened and the city started to spin around me.
