Page 28 of Calm Before the Score

“Vi, she’ll love you. She’ll like you more than me. She’s been begging me to find someone for years. Let’s go pack. We’ll head there tonight.” Her face lights up, and before she can overthink this and come up with all the reasons this isn’t the right thing to do, I grab her hand and lead her towards my parked car. Movement is good for her. Staying in one place to ruminate is not.

“Are you sure?” She shies away and retreats into that mind of hers.

“I want you there. If you don’t come, I won’t enjoy myself anyway because I’ll be obsessing over the next time I’ll get to hold you.” She darts her eyes down and gnaws on her short fingernails. Grabbing her hands in mine, softly rubbing them before I tilt her chin up to meet my gaze.

“Come with me.” My eyes bore into hers. I have never wanted to bring someone home before. Now that I have Vi, I want to do everything with her, especially meeting my mom.

“If you’re…”

“I’m sure.”

“Ok.”

After a few hours of packing the necessities at Violet’s apartment, we’re off to my childhood home. My mom doesn’t know Violet is coming. I want to surprise her with the best present she has ever received. Mom knows how obsessed I am with Violet, but she won’t believe that I’m bringing her home for Thanksgiving. I’ve never brought a girl home to meet her.

It’s colder than normal for a Florida November, so I crank the heat in my car to make sure my girl stays warm. She has a white knit hat on, and her nose is red from the nipping cold.

“What is she like?” Violet asks.

“She’s a little feisty. She loves to mess with me, and she’s not afraid to tell it like it is, but she also has the biggest heart and would do anything for anybody.”

“Are you a momma’s boy?” she says as she nudges my arm playfully.

“Absolutely not,” I reply because who wants to be labeled as a momma’s boy?

“You are.” She giggles. The sound of her laugh sends me into a tailspin. I love hearing her let go of herself for a while and just live.

“I’ll be whatever you need me to be, Vi.”

“Ryan, there’s something I need to tell you.” Her mood shifts, and her tone is laced with worry.

“A good thing or a bad thing?” I glance her way trying to remain calm, but my grip tightens on the steering wheel.

“Kind of a bad thing, but I don’t know. Not really, just a different thing.”

“Vi, you can tell me anything.” I grab her hand, trying my best to keep my eyes on the road. She needs the extra reassurance, and I’ll give it to her every single time.

“Before I tell you, just know it’s ok if you feel scared or weirded out by it. I won’t be offended.”

“I don’t get scared.”The only thing that scares me is losing you.

“Well, it hasn’t been a big deal because usually when you spend the night, we are either busy doing other things or we’re so exhausted that it isn’t as noticeable, but I can tell that I’m not tired tonight, so there is potential for it to come up.”

She pauses, and I give her time to think about her words. Whatever it is she needs to tell me right now is scaring her. I can feel her hand shaking under mine, and I grab it tighter. I keep my eyes focused on the road ahead. She needs to know that I’m here, but I want to give her the opportunity to finish talking before I cut in.

“When I’m nervous, it’s worse, and that’s why I want to warn you ahead of time. I have, umm, patterns that I follow before I go to sleep.” I can feel her voice sinking lower and her confidence slipping away.I can’t have that.

“Keep going, Vi, I’ve got you.”

“It really depends on the night, but sometimes I’ll check to make sure I turned off the sink more than once. Checking that the door is locked is a big one. Sometimes it’s my thoughts. It’s hard to explain, but I think of every worst-case scenario at night, and it seems like the biggest problem ever at the time. I can’t turn it off, and it won’t stop until I’m so mentally exhausted that I finally crash. It’s a lot, and I wouldn’t blame you if it scared you off.”

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

I don’t know much about it, but I know that this is what she is describing. She thinks this information will make me leave? Who has made her feel like she should be ashamed of this part of herself?

I pull into the next gas station I see before I respond to her. I need to make sure she hears me clearly. My blood is boiling, but not for the reasons she’s thinking. Who has she surrounded herself with that would make her feel this way? I have a visceral need to protect the tiny storm next to me with everything I have.

“Ryan, where are we going?” She moves to look at me with a ball of nervous energy.

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