And hell if I didn’t do the same thing. Under those khakis and turtlenecks, there is a beautifully pure woman waiting to break free. She’s hesitant, a little skittish, but from the look in her eyes when I would lean close, I could see something else: yearning.
And that’s why this is all fucked up because a part of me wants to see where that yearning could lead, but I can’t because I’m a bitter bastard who would destroy her. She’s sunshine and rainbows; I’m rainclouds and puddles. I match well with girls like Sasha, who share the same hate I have toward life. I don’t go for girls who can easily see the good in everything.
I knew coming to the meeting tonight was going to be hard, but I didn’t know it was going to be this hard. Even beneath the corduroy pants and crewneck sweatshirt with a watering can on the front, I felt the pull between us, like our beings were trying to attach themselves together. I wanted to talk to her, ask her how her fucking day was, if she brought me any cookies. But that almost seemed too intimate. So, I did what I do best. Acted like a dick.
With a foot propped against the wall, my arms crossed over my chest, I wait for Daisy to come out of the bathroom. It’s only a brief five minutes before she appears and when she does, I immediately notice her red-rimmed eyes. Shit.
“Oh,” she says, startled when she sees me. “Um, excuse me.” She tries to sidestep me but I grab her by the wrist and stop her. When I spin her back around, she’s shocked, maybe a little scared.
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly, just wanting to get this over with. “I didn’t mean to be rude to you or hurt your feelings.”
“You didn’t,” she replies with a brave face and lifted chin.
“No?” I cup her cheek and wipe under her eye with my thumb. “Then why are your eyes wet?”
Searching my eyes, she tries to formulate a response. She tries to lower her head but I don’t let her. She lets out a frustrated breath and asks, “Why don’t you want to be my friend? I might be different, but I’m still a nice girl.”
“Yes, you are a nice girl, Daisy. That’s the problem. You’re pure, the furthest thing from me.”
Her nose scrunches up in a cute way that makes me want to . . . no, not going there.
“I don’t understand.”
Retreating away from her, I run my hand through my short, dark hair and say, “I’ll tarnish you, Daisy. I’ve done things, seen things that would make you blush, quiver, think again about ever stepping outside your house. I’m not the kind of person you should be hanging out with.”
“And who are you to decide that?” she asks, puffing her chest out, surprising me.
“Listen, I know your kind—”
“No, you don’t,” she shoots back, poking me in the chest. “Do you know why? Because I don’t even know my kind just yet. I’m still finding myself, so don’t prejudge me before I can find out who I am. That’s not fair to me.”
“Daisy, I’m too much of an asshole for you to be hanging around with.”
“That may be true,” she says honestly. “But maybe I need a little um, butthole in my life.”
We both pause, mulling over her words, both cringing. Daisy is the first one to laugh out loud and cover her mouth while shaking her head. “Oh goodness, that sounded really bad.”
Laughing with her, I nod. “Pretty gross, Snowflake.”
Smiling brightly, she nudges my shoulder and says, “You know what I mean. And hey, maybe I might not need a butthole, but you sure do need some rainbow in your life.”
“Stop saying butthole, please,” I beg jokingly.
“Seriously, Carter. We both want to break free. Stop pushing me away and let’s help each other. I need a partner in crime, will you be that person for me?”
A partner in crime. Hell, I could easily be that person for her but do I want to be? If I learned anything tonight, it’s that I can’t seem to leave her alone. So maybe being the one to liberate her will be the perfect distraction to get me through this godforsaken, let’s talk about our feelings and then dance around a rain stick program.
She exchanges a hopeful glance in my direction and I concede. “All right, Snowflake, you got your partner in crime.”
“Really? REALLY?” Jumping up and down, the watering can on her sweatshirt shifting with her movements, she cheers over her small victory. “Oh, I’m so excited. We are going to have the best time, Carter. I just know it. Oh, we can puffy paint together.”
“Watch it,” I hold up my finger to warn her, “there will be no puffy painting.”
We walk back to our circle and she bumps into my shoulder. “Never say never. Once you get that little bottle in your hand, you won’t be able to stop yourself from squeezing.”
Christ.
***
Dear Life,
Learning to let go and move on, there is no learning there. You can’t teach someone how to forget about their husband, how to live without them. Learning to let go comes from within. A deep inner strength I have yet to find, that honestly, I don’t necessarily want to find. Not yet at least.
But what I did find this past week surprised me. I found a friend. I found someone who has experienced similar pain and understands the damage losing a loved one can do to a soul.
Jace Barnes, Rookie of the Year, starting shortstop, and broken man. My new friend. Talking to him eases the pressure within my heart. He understands me. For the first time in over a year and a half, I’ve found someone who understands me.
For that, I guess I have to say thank you.
Sincerely,
Hollyn
Dear Life,
Wowza. Have you been paying attention these last few days? Did you see me out there in action, making friends? Did you see those text messages? Brilliant, right?
When Amanda showed me how to make a group text, which is actually quite simple, I couldn’t believe my luck when everyone started replying, interacting. And then the last thing I expected happened: Carter sent me a personal message.
For some reason, he makes me feel self-conscious but also invigorated. He makes me question everything, but also challenges me. Is that possible? That’s why I asked him to guide me through this convoluted world, to assist me through the ups and downs because there is no doubt in my mind that no matter what happens, he will try to protect me, and in this big scary world, I need a protector.
What’s going to happen next? I have no clue, but whatever it is, it’s going to change that girl in the mirror. Here’s to another step to a new me.
Kind regards,
Daisy
Dear Life,
Growing up in the foster care system taught me some valuable lessons. One, guard yourself and guard your possessions, you never know what might happen to them at any given time. Two, family is everything, it’s what every lonely kid wishes, hopes, and prays for. And three, love isn’t handed out in droves. Love is resigned for those who are special enough to find someone in their life to accept them for who they are and never let go.
I have my possessions. I’ve never been one for materialistic things, but the few items I’ve kept have meaning in my life. They will forever stay with me.
Family, I’m still hoping and praying for one. Even at my age, I want a family. Hope, she was my family but just like every other cruel happening in my life, I lost her too.