Finley
I hear my phone vibrate with notifications as I'm laying on the floor, sprawled like a starfish and working on deep slow breaths like I have been for the last half an hour. I don't look at them. Not yet.
My brain is oddly calm at the moment, because it all makes sense now. Max hasn't been talking to me as much the last few weeks because he has new friends. He doesn't need me anymore. Bridget hasn't talked to me at all since she left because she was having a good time at school away from Mom and Dad. So, she didn't have anything to complain about. Elly, Fran, and Polly have only been as amazing as they have been because I live here and pay part of the rent. They feel like they have to be nice to me.
And Harlyn... Well, it's been good with Harlyn. Aside from a few hiccups the first few weeks as we got used to each other again, it's been...easy. Being with me has been easy. Until last weekend, we were just living. And last weekend scared him. What would have happened if it had been any worse? Would he still be with me? Would he still think being with me was easy?
And so, the solution is clear: be perfect. Be exactly what everyone else expects me to be all the time. The perfect best friend for Max when he does call. The perfect sounding board for Bridget if she ever calls to vent again. The perfect roommate so I'm never in the way. And the perfect boyfriend so Harlyn never has to worry. Earn their love.
This is always where I'm comfortable. If I know my role, I can fill it. If I know what people need from me, I can do it. If I know what people expect, I can live up to those expectations. It's the asking for what I need and making decisions that are "right for me" - whatever the hell that means - that's terrifying, that sets my teeth on edge. It's what I've fought against for years, ever since starting with Eliza. And I know she'd want me to fight now.
But I'm tired. School is exhausting. Work is exhausting. All the new, different everything is exhausting. The new feeling hasn't gone away as much as I thought it would. And today...today I give up. The call with Bridget. The look on Harlyn's face when I snapped at him... I'm done.
So, I stay on the floor and bask in the uneasy calm that once again falls over me. The one that comes when I listen to all of my worries and do everything I can to make sure they don't happen.
Eventually, I check my phone. There's an email from one of my professors that I skim quickly and a text from Max that I ignore for the moment. Then there's a string of texts from Harlyn that break through my uneasy calm for just a moment and fill my lungs with more air than they've had in an hour. He's not mad. I didn't push him away too far. And he brought me hashbrowns.
I crawl to my door, open it, snatch the paper bag from the landing, and retreat to eat against my bed. My phone buzzes before I even get the food out.
Harlyn: That was adorable.
I freeze.
Me: Are you spying on me?
Harlyn: Maybe.
I shuffle on my butt back to the door and call out, "Harlyn?"
There are a few muffled footsteps and then a "Hi, love."
"What are you doing?"
"Um...spying?" There's shuffling. "I... I left the food, and I know you don't want, like, company. But I was worried. I just wanted to be close. To you. In case you needed me. So, I was just a few stairs down. I'm surprised you didn't see me honestly. I could see you just fine."
"I was focused on my food," I mumble, trying to wrap my numb brain around how amazing he is. All I come up with is that I don't deserve him. "Thank you, by the way. For the food. You endured McDonald's for me."
"I told you I would. If you needed it."
"Did you?"
"Yeah. Months ago. Told you I wouldn't step foot in McDonald's again unless it was to get you comfort hashbrowns."
"Oh yeah." I rest my forehead against the door and take a few deep breaths. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."
"No no. No, I shouldn't have grabbed you like that, not without making sure it was ok first. Especially after you asked for space today. I'm sorry."
I let out a long breath. "What have I told you about all of these 'sorrys'? You've used up all your rations."
"Right. Sorry." I can hear the smile in his voice, and I can't help my smile, too. "I was worried, though. Still am. You looked...like near panic attack level."
I decide not to tell him that I was. That would worry him. And I'm trying to make it easy on him. But I can tell him about Bridget.
"Bridget called," I say, pulling a hashbrown out and discovering that he also got me fries and chicken nuggets.
"Oh, yeah? That's...When was the last time you talked to her?"
I think while chewing a bite of hashbrown. "Mm, the week she moved into her dorm. She sent me pictures, including a rather unflattering one of Mom wrinkling her nose at the mattress that she was not at all impressed with. I haven't heard from her since. Probably because she hasn't had to deal with Mom and Dad, so she hasn't had anything to complain to me about."
I've talked to Harlyn in passing about my relationship with Bridget, mostly that it's complicated but it got "better" this summer. He seems to immediately understand what I'm trying to say, though, because he says, "Ah, I see. And, uh, what did they do this time?"
"They want her to come home for Thanksgiving."
After a long beat, Harlyn says, "Ok?"
"Thanksgiving's a big deal. And it's even bigger this year, because it's the first time Mom and Dad are empty nesters, and I won't be there." I try to word the next information in a way that's sympathetic to my parents and Bridget. "I think my parents want Bridget home because I won't be there and because it's kind of expected that you're home for Thanksgiving. You're with family for Thanksgiving. That's how it's always been. We've always been there. Bridget sees it as a demand, as another way to control her, make decisions for her. And also, I don't blame her for not wanting to spend even just Thanksgiving Day alone with my parents."
"I don't really blame her either." There's a rustle, and he sighs. "So... both sides are kind of...overreacting?"
I nod, even though I know Harlyn can't see it. "As usual. My parents have expectations, and they don't always convey them in the best or most understanding of ways. Even completely valid expectations like wanting Bridg home for a holiday. They're not great at expressing emotions, so it probably came off less like 'We miss you and we're lonely' and more like 'We expect you to be here, so you're coming.' And Bridg... Well, Bridg can be a bit dramatic sometimes. And she's not good at voicing her emotions either. They usually come out snappish and accusatory. And, as usual, it all went to hell."
"So, what you're saying is...your entire family needs to go to therapy."
I snort into a surprised giggle and thunk my head against the door. "Yes, exactly."
"There's the laugh." There's so much affection in his voice that I can't help but finally pull the door open. I find him smiling back at me. "Hi, love."
"Hi." The numbness breaks. My facade breaks. Just for a moment. Just for a moment I can be sad. I can show him I'm sad. I can ask for one thing. One cuddle. One hug. One moment of selfishness. And then I'll be perfect.
I crawl into his lap where he's sitting against the wall at the top of the stairs and hide in his chest. And I cry. And he holds me. And I listen to him cry. And I realize...we haven't cried together in person since I walked away from him at the bus stop all those months ago. It's cathartic. And terrifying. The scared part of me wants to hide, to retreat, to convince him I'm fine. We're fine. But I stay. Just for another minute.
After Harlyn leaves - with a kiss and a lingering hug - I change into my pajamas and crawl into bed. My eyes burn, but my mind is still working. Still whirring.
There's a knock on my door around eleven, and Elly sticks her head in, her hair wrapped in a silk scarf. "Hi, babes. How are you doing?"
The numbness is back. I can't be an inconvenience. I shrug under the covers. "I'm fine."
Her lips purse. "I don't believe you." She tiptoes to the side of my bed. "Can I give you a hug?"
I nod, and instead of leaning over to squeeze me like I think she's going to, she waves me over and lays down next to me. And she pulls me to her chest, enveloping me like she always does in a perfect Elly hug. I could live just on Elly's hugs. And tonight, she's wearing the softest shirt I've ever felt in my entire life. So, I lean in and let her hold me close.
She whispers things into my hair. "Harlyn loves you so much, babes. We love you so much. Fran. Polly. Max. Me. I love you so so much, Finley Bowers. Never ever forget that."
I don't say anything. I let her words wash over me. And even as all the thoughts finally start to fade, one sticks.
Sure, they all love me now, but until when? Because there's always something. Always.