Page 116 of If You Need Me

“I’m okay, thanks.” I disappear into my room and slap a hand over my mouth, but it doesn’t muffle the anguished sob.

I grab a pillow to smother the sound. He just seemed so resolute, so certain that this was the right thing to do. Convinced there was no future for us. If I’d told him I was falling in love, would it have changed things? Would he have believed me?

Knowing him. Seeing Dallas as he is today and not a snapshot of a bad memory—he made me believe that maybe, just maybe, I could be loved forever. Worse, he made me believe it was safe to fall in love—to trust him with my scars and glass heart—that love wasn’t fleeting, love was patient and gentle. Now I’m alone again, with different wounds under my ribs this time.

I sob myself to sleep and call in sick the next morning. I can’t face the world, not like this. I’m a mess. And I can’t stop crying. I woke up in the middle of the night having soaked my pillowcase.

I try to avoid a call with my moms this morning, but it’s like they have a sixth sense for when I’m upset. After they’ve called three times in a row, I give up and answer.

“Is everything okay? I woke up this morning with a feeling,” Mom says.

I immediately burst into tears.

“Hemi? Sweetie? What happened?” Mom asks.

“Deep breaths, baby girl. Whatever it is, it’ll be okay,” Ma says soothingly. “We’re here to help however we can.”

“I-I-I—” I gulp air. “Damn it!”

“It’s okay,” Ma murmurs. “Take your time. We’re not going anywhere.”

It takes another minute for me to get my tears under control. “Dallas broke up with me, and none of it was really real—not the dating, not the engagement, and I’m sorry I lied to you, and everything hurts.” I’m sobbing all over again.

“We’re calling you back on video,” Mom says.

“I’m a wreck,” I blubber.

“Sweetie, we’re your moms; when you hurt, we hurt.” She ends the call and a second later starts a video chat.

Seeing their faces through the small screen only makes things worse. I’m a real mess. But once I get things under control, I sob/word-vomit the entire story, starting with my braid being lopped off by Dallas’s friend in grade three, my lost bike in middle school, to the prom fiasco, to the fake dating and the fake engagement, and finally to the real dating and the subsequent breakup.

“But you looked so happy together at the engagement party,” Mom says softly.

“I was. We were. I mean, apart from the fact that the engagement wasn’t actually a real engagement. The reunion was when things shifted. For me. He’s had feelings for a long time.”

“But you spent all that time together for the promo opportunities…” Ma seems to be just as confused as I am.

“Because he needed a babysitter.” Or he acted like he did.

“And he knew you would always show up,” Mom finishes.

“He’s been in love with me all this time, and I don’t match him yet. I thought I was falling for him. And now I never can. He said he can’t keep doing this. That it hurts too much to love me the way he does and know I don’t feel the same way.”

“Oh,” Ma says. “I see.”

“Is that true? You don’t love him?” Mom asks.

“I think I really actually do. I just couldn’t own those feelings, and what if I do own those feelings and down the line he realizes I’m too much for him?” I’m spiraling, and I don’t know how to stop. “Why would I let myself love him?”

“Oh my sweet, sweet Hemi. You’ve got that candy coating, but under that shell is a girl full of melty feelings.” Her expression is soft and knowing. “I think you need to start looking at yourself through a different lens. We picked you because you were clearly a fighter. All of us picked you. Your moms, yourbrothers, the Terror, your Badass Babe Brigade, Dallas. We chose you, and we will always keep choosing you. The way things started with you and Dallas may not have been conventional, but he keeps picking you. If he’s worthy of your heart, you can let yourself pick him, too.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Sometimes it is, sweetie. It’s just our trauma that makes it complicated. If you love him, then love him.”

“I love you both.”

“We love you, too, Hemi. With all our hearts.”

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