Page 38 of Smitty

“Okay?” He leaned back. “That mean you’ll go?”

“Yeah, I’ll go.”

“You sure?”

“No.” I laughed, wiping more tears from my face. “But I’ll go.”

“That’s my girl.” He gave me a quick kiss before saying, “You’re gonna be one hell of a social worker someday.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so.”

He kept his word. We both did, in the beginning.

I could still remember how excited I would get when I saw his truck pull into my dorm parking lot and how my chest would tighten whenever I got one of his late-night phone calls that lasted until one of us fell asleep. And how I always smiled whenever I got one of his texts.

Then, things started to change.

It was subtle at first. A missed weekend because I had a big paper to write or a big test coming up. A phone call cut short because I had a study session, or he had to work late. We always said the right things, ‘I’ll call tomorrow and I love you’, but days became weeks.

Then, weeks became months.

Our calls became shorter, and our visits grew farther apart. And then, somewhere along the way, there was nothing left but silence. Just thinking about it was making my chest ache.

I was almost at the verge of tears when something smacked me hard against my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Ow!” I complained.

“My bad.” Gloria tossed a new tennis ball into the air, catching it in her hand. “You were in another world… I had to do something to bring you back to reality.”

“What?”

“You’ve been standing there staring into space for the last five minutes.”

“Oh.” Heat crawled up my cheeks. “I’m sorry about that. I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”

Gloria’s smile faded. “You okay?”

The question caught me off guard.

I liked Gloria. She was a good friend who always listened when I had a problem with work, and she gave advice and looked out for me whenever she could. But this wasn’t work. And I was in no mood to share the sordid details of my love life.

I forced a smile as I said, “I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Work getting to you?”

“As always.”

“You have to learn to leave work at the office.”

“I wish it were that easy.”

“You’ll burn yourself out if you don’t.”

“I know. I know.”

I’d heard the same warnings from professors, supervisors, and just about every social worker who’d been working for more than a couple of weeks. Build boundaries. Protect your space.