Page 32 of Show Me How to Heal
Zayne shrugged, but he couldn’t hide the barest hint of a smile curling his lips. Furthermore, he couldn’t hide the blush on his face.
“Just ask her. Worst thing that could happen is he doesn’t want to come out and say hi… That’s probably not worse than him not answering any of your texts.”
My heart went out to Zayne, who was looking at me with a hopeful expression that faltered after just a second, as if he didn’t want to allow himself to feel hope at all. I got that. I so did. Whenever the doctors had told me about my recovery chances, there’d been this flicker of hope, a little seed taking root within my broken heart. But I’d never allowed this hope to grow because it would have been too painful to see it wither away when it became obvious that the vague possibility of making a full recovery just wouldn’t happen. I didn’t want that for Zayne. I wanted him to be strong enough to hope. I wanted to see his seed of hope grow into something strong. Wanted to see his hope becoming reality.
Damn, I was so far in over my head. Moritz would have a field day if he knew my crush was borderline ridiculous. Falling for a guy after our first night together was ridiculous.
Fuck.
“Okay,” Zayne said as the waitress approached us with our drinks on a tray, her short brown ponytail bobbing with every step.
“Here’s your order, gentlemen,” she said with a wink as she placed the Cokes on our table.
I stroked Zayne’s hands with my thumbs, never letting go of him, instead giving him an encouraging nod.
“Uhm,” he said, swallowing, then coughing to clear his throat. “I’m a friend of Addy… uhm, of Adam. Could you maybe tell him I’m here? … My name’s Zayne,” he stuttered, cheeks flaming.
The waitress gave him a big smile. “Yeah, I’m definitely going to do that.” She nodded. “Honestly, I think he could use a little cheering up.”
Zayne immediately went rigid. “Why?” His voice had a sharp edge to it that made not just me but Kathy flinch, too.
“Oh, uhm… I don’t want to gossip,” she said, quickly turning around, looking for the other waiter on duty, but he was on the opposite side of the diner. “You’re his friend, right?” She waited for Zayne to nod, which he did in a curt motion. His hands were basically crushing my fingers right now. “To be honest, we’re a little worried about him,” she confided, her face falling, showing what appeared to be honest concern. “Eliza — one of my coworkers — offered to speak to Avery about it. He’s the owner of the bookstore, and he orders all her manga, so she’s there quite often, and… anyways, I’m glad you’re here. I’ll let him know.” She nodded one last time, then turned around and hurried off, as if she were afraid Zayne would change his mind.
When I looked at him, his face was ashen.
“Hey,” I said, stroking his hands gently. He was still holding on to mine for dear life, his knuckles white from tension. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” he said, his voice a broken whisper. “He’s… he’s my best friend, and he’s suffering.”
“And if he’s ready to accept help, you’ll be there to catch his fall and help him get back on his feet, right?”
“Of course!” he insisted, and I had to smile.
“See. The thing is — and that’s a hard lesson to learn — is that you can’t help people that don’t want help.” My family knew a whole lot about it. And damn, I wanted to tell Zayne. In a way, I could. The censored version at least. “After my… accident, I was in a bad place. Imagine me, a complete health nut, suddenly deciding to eat a tub of ice cream per day, drinking alcohol, and not doing any of the exercises my PT gave me.” I tried to smile, but I knew it was more of a grimace. “I was at a very low point in my life. Everything was black. Moritz came by every single day, you know? He had a full-time job, and he still kept visiting me. Even though I was really nasty towards him. My parents, too. They all tried to help, to lift me up. They did everything I could wish for. Organizing a vacation to get me away from it all. Being there, offering to do those exercises with me. Cooking for me. Watching movies. Board games. Video games. They brought books — self-help books, thrillers, crime novels, fantasy, occasionally even romance novels. They tried so hard. And what did I do?”
Zayne’s eyes were firmly focused on mine as he cocked his head, waiting for me to go on.
“I let the food go bad. Didn’t show up for the vacation. Didn’t touch the books. Didn’t talk to them. Refused to play with them, talk to them. Inside, I was so mad. Mad at them, mad at me, mad at the world. I didn’t want help. They could’ve stood on their heads and I still wouldn’t have accepted their help.” I sighed. “It took me a long while, almost a month, to get into a headspace where I could ask for help, you know? It’s… you need to see that you need help first. I didn’t think I needed help — my life was over. Why should anybody help me if it wouldn’t change anything? I’d lost everything I’d worked for my whole life. No matter what I did, I wouldn’t get that back. So, why help me? It felt pointless. After talking to a therapist for a while, I realized they couldn’t help me get back what I’d lost. But I damn sure needed their help to move on. I still do.”
I took a deep breath, letting go of one of Zayne’s hands to grab my glass of Coke and drink a big gulp before setting it down and powering on. “It might be the same thing with Adam. From what you’ve told me, it’s possible he hasn’t realized he needs help yet. Which is painful for you to see because for you, it’s obvious. But for him? He might not see it that way,yet.But if he ever gets to the point, it’ll be invaluable to know there are people he can rely on. Don’t give up on him.”
Even though I’d just drank a bit of my Coke, my mouth was completely dry. I felt raw, as though I’d just cut myself open and presented Zayne all of my insides. I let my gaze wander through the diner self-consciously. It felt like hundreds of people were looking at me, staring, their gazes boring into me like daggers; them listening in on our conversation, dissecting every word I said, just waiting for a chance to sell me out to the highest bidder.
In reality, no one even spared us a glance.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Zayne said softly, his eyes shining with unshed tears. I swallowed, my own eyes prickling with tears wanting to escape, too. I bit the inside of my cheeks to keep myself from bawling in the middle of a restaurant. “And thank you for sharing that with me. As much as it pains me, you’re right. I can’t help Adam if he thinks nothing is wrong. I just hope he realizes what’s going on soon because it’s slowly tearing me apart.”
I nodded, not able to speak. There was a lump tightly lodged in my throat. I needed to call Moritz later to say thank you. And my parents. And probably my former teammates, too.
We stayed silent for a while, simply holding hands, me caressing the back of his hand with my thumb, taking solace in each other.
We’d spent the whole day together, talking, getting to know each other, and the conversation had always flowed easily between us. I knew we could talk, but knowing we could also keep still was priceless.
I gradually relaxed, and so did Zayne. The tension bled out of his frame, his shoulders sagging the tense pull around his mouth fading away until his beautiful smile was back in place.
God, I could get lost in that smile. I basked in the warmth and calm radiating off him when suddenly, it went away, and rigid Zayne was back.
I turned my head in the direction Zayne was looking and immediately knew what was up. A man in a chef’s jacket was heading straight for us, a tight smile on his face. He was as tense as Zayne was. His steps might suggest confidence, but they couldn’t fool me. I could see right through him — and he was a nervous wreck.
