Page 66 of Love Undiscovered
“Is that another question from the list?” Her body stiffens.
“Yep. Our third question. See how great this is going? Just like a normal cordial conversation.” I smile to show I’m joking, but she has yet to look back at me. I’m hoping this makes her uncomfortable because we are connecting and not because there’s something weird with her family. “So, what is it, once a week? Once a month?”
“I don’t really visit with my family.” Her face goes completely impassive when she says this, her eyes showing no emotion.
“Not at all?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry. Did something happen?”
“That’s another question, and I’ve already answered the first. So, what about you, how often do you visit with your family?”
“We talk a lot, more on the phone than in person. But we get together at least every other week for Sunday dinner. And sometimes more often than that if it’s a holiday or someone’s birthday.”
“Every other week? As in twice a month?” she asks.
“Yeah, and sometimes that doesn’t seem like enough. My niece is growing so fast I feel like I’m missing everything. And I have another niece or nephew on the way, and I want to see that one grow. And my parents aren’t getting any younger. So, yeah, at least twice a month.”
“Wow, I would have no idea what that’s like. I'm not sure if I’m jealous over it or relieved I don’t have to do that myself.”
I wonder what happened in her past to make her say that. I always assume people get along with their families and visit them. That’s just what you do. I forget that not everyone is like me.
“Why don’t you visit your family?” I try again.
“What’s the next question?” The stony look on her face clearly tells me the conversation about her family is over.
“Ok,” I mutter. “Tabling the family discussion.”
I pause to eat some more of my gyro. Which, I have to admit, is the best one I’ve ever had.
“What’s something you’ve never tried, but are dying to do?” I ask.
I like the way she scrunches her mouth when she’s thinking. I doubt she realizes she does it.
“I don’t think I have one. Whenever I want to do something, I pretty much do it.”
“That’s such a bullshit answer,” I laugh.
“No, it’s not,” she says. I look her in the eye and wait. Because we both know it’s a cop-out.
“Fine,” she says. “I have issues with heights.” I stay silent, there’s got to be more to the answer since she hasn’t really answered the question. She takes a deep breath, and then apparently decides to share something about herself with me, because she adds, “I’d like to get over it. So, maybe do something that helps with that.”
“What kind of heights are we talking about? Empire State Building? Seattle Space Needle? Skydiving?”
“Among other things.”
“What other things?” I ask.
She shrugs her shoulders a bit, then says, “Ladders, balconies, bridges, glass elevators.”
That’s a new one.
“Ladders? Like how tall?” I ask.
“Honestly? I don’t even like my step ladder at home. Anything more than two steps and I’m having a hard time.”
“What about stairs?” I ask.
