Page 90 of Because of Dylan

“I’m not sure if I’m fit for a real relationship.”

“What makes you think that?”

I gaze down. My hand has shredded the corner of the blanket into a tangle of strings. “You know why. I’m a mess. I’ve never had a real relationship in my life. I have no idea what it even looks like.”

“Okay, let’s break this down. One: You’re not a mess. You’re a human being, and being human is complicated—”

I huff. “Yeah, but I’m more complicated than most.”

“You don’t know that. There are over seven billion people on the planet. Don’t compare. You can only speak for yourself.”

Now I’m the size of a speckle of dust. He didn’t mean it like that, I know, but his words make me aware of my insignificance. “See? That’s why I’m not good enough.”

“I didn’t say that. I never said you’re not good enough. Where is this coming from?”

My insecurities. “Never mind. I’m babbling. Go on.”

“No. Let’s not go on. It serves no purpose for you to hold on to these ideas. Tell me what you’re thinking. The truth this time.”

I wrap the jumble of strings around two fingers and pull. They dig into my skin before breaking away. If only breaking away from myself was that easy. “I have nothing to offer him.”

“That’s not true.” The soothing tapping resumes. “You’re kind, and funny, and you have a huge heart.”

I run a thumb through the grooves the strings left on my skin. “How can you know any of this? We’ve never met. All you know is what I tell you, and none of it is good.”

“I know because I have been listening. You have way more to offer than you think, and—” He pauses, the tapping increases, he releases a loud breath. “And I have another homework for you.”

I close my eyes and thump my head against the wall. What now? “Ugh.”

He chuckles. “This should be easier than the last one.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Your homework is to let it be. Don’t automatically shut down with this person.”

“Let it be? What do you mean, let it be?”

“If you’re attracted to this person and feel safe with him, let it be. Don’t run. See how this plays out. Give him, and yourself, a chance.”

“What if I can’t? It feels like too much.” I’m holding myself so stiffly, my shoulders burn. I arch my back to ease the pain, but the ache burrows deeper.

“I’m not saying marry the guy. I’m saying talk to him, get to know him better. You might surprise yourself. This might end up being nothing, just another person you crossed paths with, but it could also be the beginning of something great. And you won’t know until you try.”

“And if it’s a big freaking mess?” It’s already a mess. He’s a professor, I’m a student. It can never happen. But I can’t tell him that.

“And if it’s not?” he counters.

And if it’s not … what could it be, then? Resistance builds in my chest, it constricts me, makes it harder to breathe. “Please don’t tell me you believe in happily-ever-afters.” Sarcasm drips from every word I say.

“I believe in happily-ever-nows. Each moment is a choice we make. To be happy or not.”

His words press into my chest like a phantom CPR trying to breathe life into my deadened heart. A part of me screams that he’s talking bullshit, hippie mumbo jumbo. But another part remembers all the times I could have been happy, but held to my anger and misery instead. Warring thoughts take residence in my mind, bouncing against each other. My temples pound with the beginning of a headache. Have I been making the wrong choices all these years?

“Talking to you feels like being punched in the face again and again.” I didn’t mean to say the words out loud.

“What? I’m sorry—”

“No, don’t apologize. It’s not a bad thing. It’s what I need, I think. A good brain-shaking to dislodge all the crap I stuffed in there over the years.” I laugh at my attempted joke. But the words spoken without thought, spoken without guarding myself, ring true with such a force they fill my ears with the sound of my racing heart. I press a hand to my chest, will it to slow down.

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