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She shakes her head, stepping toward the cab to open the door. She slides in, and I follow.
“Airport, please,” she tells the driver, staring out her smudged window.
We don’t speak as the car idles in a long line of exhaust and rubber. Her arms are folded over her stomach, and I can’t figure out why she’s closed off from me.
I really think she should see a counselor, but I have no idea how to broach the subject without sounding like I think she’s screwed up.
I don’t think there’s anything wrong with her, but I am afraid for her, afraid she’ll always feel like she’s only valuable because of what she can offer people—namely, her body.
How can I show her that’s not all I care about?
I reach over, gripping her cold fingers with mine. She doesn’t resist me, but she doesn’t hold them back either.
It’s nearly Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday. My grandma makes the best homemade apple pie in the state, and our enormous extended family gets together in the barn for a meal and games. We fry four turkeys, and someone always brings a baked ham. I have enough cousins to populate a small town.
The past few weeks with Harley have been…strained. She’s constantly looking over her shoulder, and I think she expects Victoria to show up and drag her back to Carbona. I’ve said everything I can to reassure her, but she merely nods and doesn’t respond.
I met with a counselor to figure out how I can help her better, but the woman said just to listen and be supportive. I thought about making an appointment for Harley, but I was advised to allow her to make that decision for herself. At this point, I’m just praying constantly.
She won’t talk to me about the age thing either. It doesn’t matter to me, but I am worried that she felt she had to keep lying to me. I get why she did it in the beginning, but does she still not trust me?
“Hey,” I say as I lean over to press a kiss to her jaw.
It’s Monday morning, and we’re sitting back up front in our horticulture class. She’s been staying in her dorm, and I’ve been in mine since we got back from Carbona. I ache to hold her close again, but she’s as distant as ever.
She looks at me as a half-smile ghosts across her lips. Then, she faces back down.
How can I get her smile to be real again? I pull out a fresh notebook sheet.
do you want to come home with me for thanksgiving? :)
She waits a few minutes to respond.
I told Kenna I’d go with her.
My chest feels tight as I debate how to respond.
Are we together? Is she trying to pull away, so I’ll break up with her? I don't know what about our trip caused this sudden change in her.
I can’t imagine how she must feel after everything that happened, but I’m losing my mind, trying to figure out what’s brought on this new dynamic between us.
I miss you already.
She doesn’t reply for over half the class, and my heart sinks further into my stomach with each passing minute.
have fun. I’ll miss you too.
Once again, I’m floored with my lack of experience with dating relationships. Am I being too pushy if I ask her why she doesn’t want to go on dates anymore or come hang out at my dorm?
I’ve offered to take her to the plant nursery, tried to surprise her with breakfast burritos, and even signed us up for a dance class together. She said she’s focusing on her classes and doing her best to keep all As. She picked up more shifts at the bar, but unless I go sit up there in a booth, I don’t see her much at all.
I feel crushed, completely hopeless, and lost. What do you do when the person you’re in love with keeps extending the distance between you?
“Mom, this is phenomenal. How’d you get to be such a great cook?” I ask over a mouthful of sweet potato pie, sprinkled with pecans and cinnamon.
My mother beams at me, patting my shoulder. “Your grandmother taught me, of course. Every young woman should learn how to take care of a man, starting with his stomach.”
She takes the open seat next to me, the rest of the family already moving on to start on the tradition of board games after the meal. Tomorrow is the big reunion, so today is just the thirteen of us.
