Page 76 of Storm in a Teacup
I swallow before asking, “Are we casual?”
“We both know we could never work as casual.” She turns her head toward me. “I was serious about last night being a one-time thing. If you can’t agree to that, maybe we should stop what we’re doing right now. Before either of us catches feelings.”
Too damn late. I turn my head toward her as well, close enough to feel her breath. “I was just clarifying. We are strictly fake dating besties who have done some sexy stuff on the side, but will refrain from anything else sexy. I got it.”
“Good.” She swallows as she shifts her gaze back to the ceiling. “For me, no commitment is better. Then no one thinks I’m expecting anything from them.”
My brow furrows as I keep my head facing her. “Are yousaying you don’t want to commit to anyone, or you don’t want anyone to commit to you?”
She chews her lip for a moment before whispering, “The latter.”
“Why? Anybody would be lucky to commit to you.”
She releases a sharp sound, shaking her head.
“What?”
“Ben, come on.”
I pick myself up on an elbow to look at her full-on. “You come on. I’m serious.”
With me still leaning over her, she whimpers lightly, eyes not meeting mine. “You don’t get it.”
“Explain. Please.”
She huffs. “Committing to me is not just committing to be in a relationship with me, it’s also committing to be there for me. Committing to take care of me when I need it. To drive me to doctor’s appointments if I can’t get there on my own. Committing to guide me through life as my vision gets worse. Committing to be the one who picks our kids up from school or playdates or…never mind. I’ve decided I’m not having kids. But you know what I mean.”
“People who are in love take care of each other. That’s how it works.”
She groans. “That’s not…it’s different.”
I shake my head. “I don’t see how. Not sure I need to say this, but I guess I will because you seem to have convinced yourself otherwise. You deserve love. Like, duh.”
She covers her face with her hands, letting out an annoyed moan. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that I don’t want someone whose love for me turns into a responsibility for them. I don’t want to be someone’s responsibility. I don’twant to be someone’s good deed. I don’t want someone to think that I cannot take care of myself. That I cannot be on my own. It’s infantilizing. And it’s humiliating. And it’s frustrating when people think that I cannot do things for myself. That I can’t walk home alone in the dark. Or that I need them to drive me places buses don’t easily access so they can feel good about themselves. That’s what taxis are for! Maybe I need to pull out the flashlight on my phone. Or in the future, maybe I’ll need to get a service dog or learn how to use a cane or whatever.”
She takes a deep breath. “I’m getting off topic. I don’t want someone to commit to me because they will fall out of love, but stay because they will feel bad leaving me on my own. Because they will think I will be unable to live on my own. Because no matter how they feel about me, I will not be a whole person to them. I will be their blind girlfriend or wife or whatever. They will be embarrassed by me when I make mistakes. They will treat me like I can’t function as a human adult. There will be times when Idoneed help, but I don’t want those moments to be used against me. For those moments to be used as evidence that I can’t do life on my own. I would rather just cut all that out and be by myself. It’s easier.”
I look at her for a long moment, so many things I could say. So many things Iwantto say. However, I say what I think she needs to hear from me the most: “Do you need to break things again?”
Her mouth pinches as she attempts not to laugh. “That should be a limited activity because it might get addictive. And expensive.”
I hope that impulse to laugh eased the hurt in her chest because the twitch of her mouth massaged the tension from mine. “You’re wrong, by the way.”
“I’m not,” she argues, her eyes big as she gazes into mine.
“No, because I think if you let the right person love you, they will love you wholly and see you wholly. Not as the bits and pieces you are choosing to separate yourself into, but as the whole, perfect you. Because you are perfect, shite eyes or not, you’re you and you is fucking amazing. You deserve to be loved wholly.”
She swallows, still staring up at me with those big eyes. “The problem is, it’s hard to find someone who will see me like that.”
I lie back down beside her. I won’t disagree. It is hard to find someone to love every part of you. Everyone has trouble with that. I almost offer to do it for her, but I can’t yet.
Instead, I swerve the conversation a little and comment, “Atticus did a number on you.” Her worry about embarrassing her partner comes strongly from him. I could tell by the way he acted the night of the stag and hen do.
“It’s not just him. There have been other men…or just people in my life who have treated me like that. That feeling holds me back from making friends, too.”
“Well, you have me.”
“I’m glad I do.”
