Page 80 of Because of Dylan

“No, I don’t think so. She was glad I told her. I think it strengthened our friendship.”

“Are you a horrible person?”

What? His question takes me by surprise. I should have seen it coming, but I didn’t. I can’t answer.

“Tell me what you’re thinking right now.” His voice is softer.

“I have two competing voices in my head.”

“What are they saying?”

“One voice is angry. It’s screaming that I am a horrible person. That I’m worthless. That this whole thing is bullshit, and I’ll never amount to anything.” And so much more. But he doesn’t need to know everything. I’ve said enough. Nausea rises up my throat.

“And the other voice? What is it telling you?”

“The other voice tells me I’m good, and I’m worthy, and everything else is just ugly lies.”

“How does this voice sound?”

I have to think about it for a moment. “It is quiet, calm, steady.”

“Do you know why this voice is quiet, and the other is screaming?”

“No.”

“Because the truth doesn’t need to scream. The truth doesn’t need to be loud. The truth doesn’t need to bully. The truth just is.”

“Oh my God.”The truth just is.Tears prickle at my eyes, and I don’t stop them. He stays quiet. Waits for me to absorb what he told me. And it rings true. His words burn into my chest, dig into my heart and singe my soul like a tattoo written in fire.

“I think I’m going to need that on a T-shirt.” I laugh through the tears.

He laughs with me.

All these years the two voices fought for space in my head and I’ve always listened to the louder, angrier voice when all along all I had to do was listen to the quiet truth that existed in me.

“Listen to the smaller voice. Listen to the voice of kindness and love. Promise me that.” His voice is not so different from my own quiet voice.

“I promise.” And I mean it.

“It won’t be easy, old habits are hard to break. But every time the old habits and voices come after you, stop, breathe, look for the truth. It whispers. You must stop and pay attention.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“Good night, Cougar22.” He chuckles.

I hang up. Remove my earbuds. Set my phone to wake me up at nine thirty. Sleep the best two hours of my life.

* * *

I have so many clothes layered on I look like that kid fromA Christmas Story. Luckily, I can put my arms down, otherwise it would be a really awkward drive into work. I take five minutes to clear the frozen dusting of snow from my car. When I finally get in and turn the ignition, I’m met with a horrible dying-engine sound no one wants to hear. Ever.

“Come on. Start.” I try again. Nothing.

“Be a good girl, and I’ll get you premium gas next time.” It’s a lie, but it works. The car starts. I can see my breath. It fogs the windows.

“I should have started you first, then cleared the ice.”

I hook my phone to the charger. It rings. River. I put it on speaker. “Hey.”

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