Page 55 of Sticking Out

The room falls silent, the only sound now reaching my ears is paper unfolding, as I open the envelope and pull out the single piece of pink paper inside. I can barely breathe, and my vision is blurry as I begin to read the words—written to me—words that I’ve never seen before.

The paper shakes in my hands as I read and reread, my brain registering that Dani had written this to me back in high school. Words like: best friends, don’t want to ruin friendship, really like you, and meet me later at the café on Ashwood Street if you like me too, jump off the page. My heart is pounding so hard now, I’m sure I’m going to hyperventilate and pass out—because I never did meet her at the local diner that night. I didn’t meet her because I had no idea about this letter. To make matters worse, I’d never even brought it up, and how horrible must that have been for her. Especially after the courage it must have taken her for her to write it.

Jesus, I have to tell her about this. I have to let her know I never laid eyes on this letter. If I had…things would have been different. But how…how do I tell her and if I do, will she simply think she’s one of the things my brother never wanted, but simply didn’t want me to have?

Fuck me.

Downstairs, the door opens and closes and in my moment of panic not knowing what to do, I shove the box back into the closet and fold up the note and put it in my pants. I stand in the doorway, debating my next move.

“Conner, I’m home.” I go quiet, my heart pounding. “Conner, are you here?”

I swallow and try for normal. “Up here.”

I back up, close her closet door, and pretend to check something on my phone as she steps into the bedroom. “Hey.” I lift my head to see her, and she cocks her head, her gaze moving over my face. “Are you okay?”

I smile, and lean down to give her a kiss. “Yeah, just finished painting the dining room.” Her eyes go wide. “I’m sorry, I came straight up and didn’t notice.”

“That’s okay.” I do my best to come off as playful, and nod toward the bathroom. “Join me?”

She starts unbuttoning her blouse. “I smell like wet dog.”

“Oh, is that what that smell is?”

Her small palm lands on my chest. “Funny guy.”

I pop the button on my jeans. If I take them off and drop them on the bed, will she see the letter? Fuck. As I struggle to figure out what to do, she goes quiet. “Conner.”

“Yeah.”

She walks over to the bed, and exhales as she sits, her eyes sliding to the closed closet door. For a second she looks confused. Does she remember leaving it open? Her head slowly lifts, and the lines in her forehead thicken. But the distant look in her eyes clears as she taps the bed, wanting me to join her. I close the distance and sit. She backs up, crosses her legs and I turn to face her.

She reaches for my hands and holds them. “Are you okay?”

Jesus isn’t that a loaded question, and the truth is I’m not okay. I’m not okay, and it’s not about me. It’s about her. But she needs to know. How can I keep this from her? “Dani?—”

“I’m so sorry, Conner. I’m so sorry for the things Alec did, and what you had to hear from your parents on the weekend. I know we haven’t talked about it. I wanted to leave you with your own thoughts for a few days—heck, I needed to sort things out myself. I’m just as hurt and confused as you are.” She puts her hand on my face. “I think we should talk about this.”

She’s so right about that.

“Why don’t you go first,” I suggest.

She briefly closes her eyes. “I have so much to say. Things I’ve thought about for years, and…” Her lashes flutter and big brown eyes meet mine. “I’m embarrassed.”

“Hey.” I shift, and cross my legs, sitting across from her. “You never have to be embarrassed with me, you know that, right?”

Her face twists. Jesus, is she holding back tears. “What is it, Dani?”

She sniffs. “I can’t believe I’m even going to tell you this.” My heart beats a bit faster, worried about where this is going.

“You can tell me anything, you know that.”

With the bottom of her shirt, she dabs her eyes and a moment later, she begins. “Growing up, we moved a lot. It was always so hard to make friends.” She glances at the closet again. “I always felt like an outsider, like I stuck out in a crowd, because I was…different.”

“Different how?”

“You know. Boys just weren’t into me, and I always just felt…unattractive, maybe even unlovable.”

“Babe, you know that’s not true, right?”

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