“You should practice.”
“What do you mean?”
Titus shrugged, regaining his usually upbeat tone.
“It’s like football, isn’t it?”
“How so?”
“You didn’t start off as a crazy good quarterback, did you?”
“No.”
“And, how did you get good?”
“Hard work. Study. Practice.”
“Exactly. How much have you practiced telling people how you feel about them?”
As I opened my mouth, I felt a pain in my chest. Even the thought of it was overwhelming.
“What? Too much?” Titus asked, stealing a glance at me from the road.
I huffed satirically.
“Okay, it’s too much right now. Just like how a perfect Hail Mary pass might be too much to expect the first time you picked up a football. But, you could throw a short pass, right? And if the receiver stepped further back each time and you kept practicing, eventually you’d have it.”
“So, you’re saying that if I had practiced, I would have been able to tell Merri how I felt?”
“I’m saying that if you practice, you still could,” he said with a smile.
“How does one practice opening up?”
Titus tightened his lips, searching for a reply.
“You start with little things like compliments. How often do you give people compliments?”
“I give them when I think people deserve them.”
“Which I’m assuming is not very often?”
I chuckled.
“I’m only assuming that because I’ve never heard one from you. So, I’m hoping that’s the case.”
“What are you talking about? I compliment you all the time.”
“Name once.”
I opened my mouth and then chuckled.
“Don’t worry. I don’t take it personally. It’s just who you are.”
“But, you shouldn’t have to make excuses for my being a bad brother.”
“I didn’t say that. You’re the best brother I could’ve hoped for. Don’t tell Cali, but you’re my favorite,” he said, blushing.
“Thanks.” I paused. “You too.”
