Page 128 of Give My Everything
The entire time she’s been watching me enraptured, telling me my life is crazier than a telenovela. Which is true. I grew up watching those with my mother, and the shit that happens in them? Nothing compared to my life right now.
“You get what I’m saying though, right?” she continues.
I roll my eyes and flop down on my back, covering my face with the pillow.
“Everyone has shit. Yes, yours has been…I’ll admit, crazier than most, but there are still good things that can come out of those. It’s just harder for you to be able to see the positiveswhileyou’re going through the hard stuff.”
She yanks the pillow off my face.
“Like when you dropped out and fell off the face of the earth for three months. In all that time, you never would have been able to identify anything positive that might have come from it—but look where it led you,” she says, slapping my arm. “You went to Alta Mesa and got this dope-ass degree you never would have considered, and you actually have ideas now on what you want to do with your life. All because some complete bitch was a complete bitch.”
I puff out some laughter through my nose but refuse to smile. That might be true, and I might feel thankful that I found Alta Mesa and the inspirational support of Melody Cohen—but that doesn’t change how I feel, doesn’t change how exhausted I am because of how hard it is to push through shit like this over and over and over again.
It just feels like I can’t catch a break.
“I think you need to go back to therapy,” she adds, snuggling into her own pillow, her eyes still on me.
I groan. “I don’t want to go back. I already did it.”
This elicits a snort from Josslyn.
“Hate to break it to you, sister, but that’s not how therapy works. You don’t go, fix all your problems, and then never use it again. I honestly believe everyone should have a therapist all the fucking time. The point is to continually work through things. It’s ongoing. And with the second rape, and the pregnancy, and all these big changes in your life…I mean, it just sounds like something that could be really helpful, especially since you acknowledge that it was helpful in college.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes. That’s another thing I love about Josslyn. Most of the outgoing people I know feel a constant need to fill time with the sound of their own voice. Josslyn is comfortable with silence, with there being nothing. Because sometimes, being together is important, but there isn’t always something to say.
She gets that. She gets me.
And it’s one of the many reasons I love her.
Eventually, we both start to doze in and out, Josslyn’s soft snore an indicator that we’ll need to pick this conversation up tomorrow. She must be exhausted. She said Ben called her and then had her on a plane within a few hours.
I grin, thinking about him taking the time to try to figure out what I need in the wake of the conversation with my mom. We don’t know each other well enough for him to truly get me, and yet he was still able to get me connected with Josslyn, and in record time.
Glancing at the clock, I realize it’s nearing midnight and I don’t know if Ben’s staying out to give us time or if he’s still at the hospital.
When I look at my phone, I see a missed text from him from a few hours ago. Must have been while I was wallowing.
Ben: I’m gonna stay with Ivy tonight, give my mom and Wyatt a break. You and Josslyn doing okay?
I smile. It’s a weird thing to realize you’re on someone’s mind. When Lucas and I were dating long distance, we rarely sent each other messages. If I’m honest, it’s because I wasn’t thinking about him. I was busy with my own life.
Here’s Ben, very consumed with what’s going on with his sister, and he still has me on his mind.
It feels good. Not because I need him to prioritize me over his sick sister, but because I love that I’m in his thoughts. Love that he wants us to stay connected.
Me: Things are good. Thank you for calling her. It’s been exactly what I needed.
And it has been.
“I’m gonna go sleep in my room, okay?” I whisper to Josslyn, knowing she can’t hear me but not wanting to leave without saying anything.
Halfway to Ben’s bedroom, I realize I called itmy room, and I let out a little snort. Clearly I’m getting comfortable here.
I switch off the hall light and close the bedroom door then crawl into Ben’s bed, sighing when his familiar scent wafts up from his sheets as I drop my body down.
If he can’t be here tonight because he needs to be with his sister, enveloping my body in his sheets is a nice second option to have.
I’m reaching out to the nightstand to click the lamp off when my phone dings again.
