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“Many things could’ve been avoided without that,” she reminds me, her hand giving my shoulder a little recomforting squeeze. “The only reason why you’re with Stanley is because of that incident. Do you regret that?”
Wiping my tears was in vain because a new wave of tears comes at her comment.
“Of course I don’t regret that,” I croak.
“Then you need to talk to him about it, Bree,” she advises softly, but her words carry strength among them. “Do you know that he’s still here? You should use that chance and have that conversation with him. I have a feeling that you guys need to clear some things.”
I close my eyes, giving in to my fear.
“I don’t want him to look at me differently.”
Cora sighs.
“The thing is that time keeps passing, and with every minute things get worse. Insecurities are the worst parasite. Carter inserted a horrible one in Stanley’s brain with that post. Remember what you wrote. If the situation was different and Stan had written a super embarrassing message professing everything that he wants to do to one of us, how would you feel?” Cora tries to use a weird sense of psychology, making me sick even to imagine that scenario.
I’m stubborn, and I have my parasite of insecurity that I can’t get rid of.
“It was months ago,” I excuse myself.
“And we know that, but you have to admit that insecurities aren’t measured by time. They just stay there in the back of our heads, making us feel like we’re not good enough, that we’re worthless,” she defends her point of view, beating some clarity into my skull.
I understand what she wants to say. Although it makes me anxious to think about Stanley breaking up with me because of this disaster, I realize that she’s right.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I start to consider it.
“Is he still here?” I interrogate in a whisper, wanting to make sure that she’s not lying to me.
Cora nods.
“He hasn’t left at all,” she reassures me, and my heart contracts painfully. “Stan’s a great guy. I don’t think that there’s a lot like him in the world. It would be a shame to let that go when it can be resolved with a simple conversation.”
Gulping, I try to get rid of the knot that inhabits my throat. I get what Cora’s trying to do, and she’s effectively convincing me of doing it. That doesn’t mean that I’m not terrified of the result of it, but I have to give it a shot.
I release a quivering sigh.
“Can you tell him to come in?” I plead because I’m not feeling strong enough to come out of the room just yet. I need to stay in my safe space where I still have some confidence left.
It’s weird how someone can shatter the opinion of yourself with a simple post. I don’t think that people realize how much hurt you can cause with social media, with the nasty comments and their words. Just because it was through a tiny screen, it doesn’t mean that I’m not allowed to hurt. Because their words do hurt me. I’ve been broken down by humiliation while they laugh and take it as a joke. It’s easy to laugh when you’re not thinking about the target’s feelings.
“Of course,” Cora says and stands up from the bed. Holding the knob, her steps stop. “Bree? I really am sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing? You’re not responsible for this.”
“I don’t think that anyone should be in your position,” she answers with a shrug, smiling before disappearing.
I feel like an eternity passes before the door opens again. I avoid his eyes at all costs, but I know it’s him. The tension is rising in the room, shortening my breath. It’s different from last night, asphyxiating and painful. It solidifies the limbo that we’re into, the proof that we have no idea if we can fix it.
This is one of the things that I’ve never liked about committed relationships. No matter how much you try, the good moments are not eternal, and there are moments of doubt filled with pain, insecurity, and sorrow. It destroys your heart in a thousand pieces that never go back to the way they were before it happened. These are the overclaimed “tests” that people love to talk about; they’re an understatement for the moments where you doubt that you want to have that person with you.
I know that I want Stanley. We just officialized our relationship less than twelve hours ago. Why do we need atestright now? We’ve barely been able to enjoy what we can give each other. It makes no sense. It’s a fucking mess.
I’m blocked and crushed as if someone was standing on my chest, threatening to break my ribs. I can’t think or put together the right thoughts. Panic closes around my neck, making it difficult for me to breathe.
I try to stay calm, to avoid jumping to conclusions and letting me fall into the anguish. It’s Stanley, for fuck’s sake. I trust him; he’s the most trustworthy person that I know. He’s always been transparent and honest with me. All of this time, Stanley has always been clear with me.
Why is it so hard to be sincere with him?
Cora is right. Insecurities are parasites, and my brain is full of them. I don’t have the tools to deal with them, only the pieces from my heart and shattered confidence. The only thing that I can do is bare my soul for him and be honest. Put on my big girl’s pants and face the situation, as he would say.
