Page 86 of The Friendship Study

“I felt really alone,” I admit. “And ashamed. And embarrassed. I didn’t know what I was doing wrong or why I couldn’t fit in and I felt like a child reliving their first day at a new school day after day after day except it was worse this time because this time I’m an adult and I’m supposed to know what I’m doing. Sometimes it felt like even my parents didn’t seem to want me here, which I know isn’t true. It’s just you know how sometimes your brain repeats your worst fears back to you and convinces you they’re real? I felt like I didn’t belong. Anywhere. And I just wished for someone to tell me they were happy I was here. I was desperate to hear it.”

The room is silent and my mind wants to run away with me, to do that exact thing, and claim they’re too embarrassed by my overshare to say anything, to even move. That these people who I hope are now my friends are really just cringing at everything I say. But I don’t listen.

“One of things I learned through all this is that if we want to belong somewhere, we need to seek it out. Belonging. In other words, I like me. I am happy here. I get to decide where I belong and this is where I belong. And I’m happy you’re all here. You can belong with me, if you want.”

The room is so deathly silent, so still, I think I’ve done it again. Shared too much, said too much. Beentoo much. But Brooke stands up, cuts through the circle of chairs, and wraps her arms around me in a hug tight enough to make my eyeballs bulge out if I were a cartoon character or maybe like a cat or something.

“I’m so happy you are here, Lulu,” she says quietly. I can’t remember if I was crying before but I’m crying now, though I try to hide it. Until Trey is there next, hugging me, telling me how happy he is to have met me, how happy he is that I’m here. And then more people, the rest of my new friends are squeezing my shoulder and cupping my elbows and smiling and finally affirming the thing I’ve hoped to hear this whole time but now know I never needed.

They are happy I am here.

I don’t know what to say back other than “I’m happy you’re here, too,” which is awkward but not as bad as the time that I wished someone a happy birthday after they wished me happy birthday but it was not, in fact, their birthday.

I sit back down and Leigh thanks me for my candor and asks if anyone else has anything they’d like to share. She looks very pointedly at Jesse and I don’t have to turn to him to see his blush. He shifts in his seat beside me and it takes a moment for me to realize he’s leaning closer to me. I look at him out of the corner of my eye. The others are starting to stare, too.

“I’m sorry, Lulu,” Jesse says quietly.

“It’s OK,” I say quickly, a reflex. And then, “What are you sorry for?”

“I’ll share,” he says to Leigh, letting my question hang. Jesse sits forward, planting his feet on the floor, his legs wide, his hands on his knees. He doesnotstand up but then he doesn’t really need to. Jesse has barely spoken through our group sessions so if he’s offering to speak now, he has all of our attention.

He’s sorry for hurting me, maybe. Or for not being able to stand in front of everyone and say he was happy I was here. The part of me that loves to hurt my own feelings whispers that maybe he’s sorry that hecan’tsay it because it’s not true. He’s not happy I’m here. But as I study his profile, I know that’s a lie I’m telling to protect myself. His hair is starting to grow in and he’s cleaner shaven, but he’s the same as the first time I met him. Quiet, nervous, eyelashes for days, and kind. Mostly kind.

Jesse opens his mouth, closes it. Takes a deep breath, and another. I sit on my hands so I don’t put one on his back.

“A friend told me that I shouldn’t wait for the perfect time to tell someone important, something important. They said that I should tell them as many times as possible and I, uh, didn’t take that advice and I ended up hurting them.”

Jesse turns to me.

Oh no.

“I don’t know if I learned how to make friends,” he says. His hands grip his knees like if he lets go, he might fall over. “No offense to Leigh.” He cringes in her direction. “All I think I learned is that I love you.”

Brooke gasps.

“I waited to tell you because I was scared of being alone again. Like if I didn’t say it to you then that would make it hurt less or something if you didn’t love me back. But I should have told you every minute since the first moment I knew it. I’m sorry I took so long.”

Leigh is remarkably placid. She gives good Therapist Face. Brooke’s hand is over her mouth, her cheeks are red, and tears shine in her eyes. Trey grins like he knew all along and people whisper, trying to catch up with the drama unfolding before them.

“What—what are you saying?” I want to be sure this time.

“I’m saying I want to be more than friends with you, Lu. You talked about belonging.” He shakes his head, shrugs. “I belong to you, if you want me.”

I should be embarrassed. There is a room full of people staring at me and that has been, without a doubt, a generally terrible experience for me in the past but I’m just too happy to care.

“Yeah?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

“I want you.”

That little personal sun, the one that brightened his face on my doorstep what feels like months ago but was really only weeks, rises again and I get the profound sense of joy that comes with making Jesse Logan smile. Joy that makes my belly warm, makes me want to laugh like a maniac. The kind of joy that makes me want to kiss him.

So, I do. I kiss him in front of Leigh and Trey and Brooke and all our friends. I kiss him in front of George, who stands in the doorway. I kiss him until I have to stop because I’m smiling too much, and he’s kissing my teeth. His eyes are warm, his personal sun shining out from behind them, warming me in golden light.

“I didn’t get the Lancaster job,” I whisper against his lips. “And it’s not because of you and it’s not something I’m going to hold against you in the future,” I tell him quickly, what I was trying to tell him before. “I belong here. I want to be here.”

“Just so you know, though,” he says, quiet but sure of himself, of us. “If you did get the job, or you get one next month, or next year, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

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