Where All Things Will Grow
Page 27
My neurons fire and my brain makes the connections that should have already been there, and I realize that he’s quiet because he’s nervous about playing in front of people again. Every time it’s the same and every time at the end he gets huge applause because people really like him.
“You’ll be great,” I tell him before moving back over to him and taking his hand. I pull him off the bed and move myself into his arms. I like forcing my way into his stiff, closed-off space. It’s like swimming against the current until he finally relaxes and accepts my comfort.
“Y-y-you’ll b-be there?”
I smile. “Where else would I be?” It’s cute how he always thinks I might have something better to do than be with him. Some day he’ll know that he’s the only one I want.
He sighs and his arms tighten around me. “D-don’t fffforget to call your d-d-d-d... fffather.”
It was Tuesday. I call my dad on Tuesdays and two other days, but I can’t remember which ones right now. It’s too early in the morning to be able to recall all that.
I gently push away from him and pick up his hand again. “Bad dream?”
He pulls his hand from mine and hides it behind his back for a second, as if that erases the teeth marks. Finally, he shakes his head. “N-no. Just n-nervous.”
“Do you want to call...?” I forget his doctor’s name, so I move to the phone and look at the list of numbers next to it. “Dr. Canaday?”
“N-n-no.” He crosses the room and links a finger with mine. I know he’s not supposed to bite his hands, but I don’t say anything. He knows it, too.
“What are you going to play?” I ask when I remember yet again about the concert.
“Ch-Ch-Chopin.”
“I’m going to wear that new thing with the sparkly things on it?” I can’t think of the word, but I know Elliott will be able to tell me.
“Shirt?” He never makes me feel stupid for forgetting a common word.
“Yes. My new shirt, or do I have to wear a dress?”
“Y-you d-don’t hhhhave to w-wear anything.” I look at his face. He’s so beautiful it hurts.
“I can’t go naked, Elliott.”
The crease in his brow disappears. “W-well, you c-can, b-but people will llllook at you.”
I like his voice and it distracts me to the point where I forget what it is we’re talking about, so I move on. “I want eggs.”
I lead him to the kitchen where he starts working on toast and coffee as I break the eggs open in the skillet. My blood sugar monitor sits on the counter, reminding me to take it. While I do, I ask, “What class do you have today?”
“Theory.”
I’m supposed to know what that means and I’m sure he’s explained it to me a hundred times, but I don’t ask again. It’ll come to me.
I think about what the day will hold. Elliott will take the subway after he drops me off. I’m surprised he can do that. He doesn’t like to be around people, but somehow he pushes himself onto the train nearly every day.
“I love you,” I say because I’ve learned that it’s good for people to know those things.
His smile is nice as he butters the toast. He doesn’t say it back to me but he will later. He always does.
A cry from Faramir reminds me that I haven’t fed the cat, so I let the eggs cook and do everything I need to do to care for him. Elliott doesn’t like the cat much, but if I completely forget to feed him, Elliott will do it by the end of the night. I try to remember, though.
After breakfast and getting our things together, he walks me to school and holds my hand. I’m anxious as I eye the door. I’ve been in that building so many times. I know what’s in there, but it doesn’t help me be less nervous. I don’t tell him about my anxiety anymore. He can only help me with it so much. It’s up to me.
His thumb strokes the back of my hand as my mind reasons with itself that there’s nothing bad inside and I can let go of his hand at any time and stand alone.
That’s what we’ve learned together; that we can’t fix each other, we can only help pick up the pieces when they fall around us.
He strokes the scar on my neck and his eyes twinkle. “You’ll hhhhhave a g-good d-day,” he tells me. He never wishes me to have a good day; he always just says I’ll have one. “I’ll t-t-text you w-when I’m on the t-train.”
I bite my lip and look back at the entryway. There’s nothing bad inside. There are people in there who like me. I talk to them every time I come here. They’re my friends.
He kisses me and I’m struck once again with excitement. It’s like that whenever I feel his lips on me. When he pulls back, I let his hand slip from mine and I finally return his smile. “You’ll have a good day, too.”
“I-I llllove you, Sophie.”
He takes a step back as I take a small step toward the door. “I love you, too, Elliott.”
I turn to enter, but then want to see him one more time before I’m swallowed by the sea of students. I turn around and just glimpse the back of his head as he’s swept in the opposite direction, following the crowd. He’ll take the train, study, and then meet me where we always meet.
He’ll smile at me and I’ll smile back. We’ll get coffee and hold hands until we’re home. The routine is always the same and it’s comforting. One day it will change when we’re finished with school, but I can’t think about the transition yet.
I’ve learned through my constant therapy and support groups that being bogged down by what’s to come won’t help me. The only thing I can do is take it one day at a time.
And that’s enough.