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And I was repulsed by the years-old yet unforgettable feeling of rough hands doing things to me that I didn’t want them to.
And the helpless child in me was…well, afraid of Landon. Grown-up me knew I had no reason to be, knew he wouldn’t hurt me, knew he would lend me every bit of strength he had if I’d let him. But the other me was impossible to quiet. She didn’t want him close enough to touch, didn’t want to be looked at. So she turned herself and all the rest of me away from him.
All in all, I just felt weak.
After he left, I couldn’t go back to sleep. Rae did after a while, and I was glad for that.
When I wouldn’t tell her what my nightmare was about,shestarted tellingmeabout how much better Landon made her feel in that scary time, how much she likes him, how happy she is that he’s around. I felt such deep appreciation for him that it brought more tears to my eyes, but I couldn’t talk back to her about him. Everything was still too raw. I said,‘Mmhmm,’and,‘Yeah,’and,‘Good,’a lot.
And once she was asleep, I thought for hours about what I should say to him.
Should I tell him about my nightmare and the memory it revolved around? Should I also go ahead and tell him about the memories I have that are even worse? Or is it better if I try to act like this didn’t happen, try to go back to the easy happiness we felt yesterday?
Obviously, that last one isn’t possible. Even if he let me pretend for a while, he’d eventually come back to it because he cares. He cares about me. Plus, honestly, could I even let myself attempt it? I like to think I address problems head-on rather than skirt around them. Could I really let myself run from this?
Fromhim?
The scarred part of me would do it—it would run. It’s been wanting to since I met him. Been whispering that I need to keep a distance, be tough and cold.
But I’m…
…God, it’s only been eight hours since I shut myself off from him and I’m alreadytiredof it.
I’m tired of ordering myself to calm down to no avail.
I’m tired of remembering, in the stifling confines of my own head, how my mom reacted when I told her what Bud did—tired of crying all over again because the betrayal of her dismissal still shreds my heart.
I want to talk to Landon.
Just imagining his low, earnest, soothing voice quiets some of the screaming turmoil in me.
I need to talk to him,the grown-up, not-afraid part of me says.I haven’t calmed down because I haven’t talked to him. He is what will calm me down.
Still gripping the bathroom counter, I crumple into myself and cry for what feels like the fiftieth time today.
I want to hug him.
I want him to make me feel like I’m going to be okay.
He doesn’t know that, though, because I haven’t reached out to him. I just haven’t been able to do it.
He hasn’t reached out to me either, which makes me feel even worse. Did I make him mad with how I acted? Did I scare him off with my nightmare? He’s smart, so surely my confiding in him up to now has given him some idea of just how bad my childhood was—did glimpsing how it still affects me plant uncertainty in his mind? Does he not want to be my friend anymore? What if he wants to cancel our plans for tomorrow? How will I explain to Rae—?
I jump as a knock sounds at the closed bathroom door. Sucking in an unsteady breath, I open my eyes.
“Annie?” comes my niece’s sweet voice. “I accidentally got mustard in my hair.” After a pause, she adds, “A lot.”
I straighten up, shake my head at my reflection in the mirror, wipe at my wet cheeks…and smile despite myself at the mental image of Rae’s corndog lunch getting messier than she meant for it to.
“All right,” I reply as normally as I can. “Give me just a minute and then you can come in.”
“Okay! I’ll go finish my chips!” I hear her hurry away.
Glad I have another distraction lined up, I work on composing myself. I’ve managed to keep all of my crying from Rae, and that’s the way it needs to stay. I don’t want to worry her again. She doesn’t need any more of this on her mind.
Text Landon,the brave part of me whispers.Right now. He’s not mad or rethinking your friendship. He’s giving you space because he doesn’t want to risk upsetting you further.
That part of me is probably right, but I can’t follow its advice right now. I’m still too embarrassed, too shaken.
