Sylvie sat back into the sofa, which had been re-made, and tucked her bare feet under her, just like she was at home. “Haveyou always felt that way?” She really wanted to get inside Ade’s head for a minute, fascinated by Ade’s complexity and the depth beneath her fragile surface.
“I guess so. It’s been my narrative since I was born, really.”
Sylvie blinked. “Tell me more.”
“When Steph was born, she came out screaming apparently. All legs and lungs.” Ade bit her lip. “I’ve struggled with everything my whole life. I was the ‘weaker twin.’” She raised her hands for emphasis. “According to my dads, I came out after a long-ass labor, and I had to go into the neo-natal unit for three weeks. My dads said I was always the one who needed the most care and attention. Steph practically looked after herself.”
“I doubt that.” Sylvie raised her eyebrow. “You think your birth story sets the tone for the rest of your life?”
“No, I’m not that naive. But ithasbeen the family way of describing us both. Steph can manage things. She’s independent and ambitious.” Ade shrugged. “I need help with everything.”
“You’re here, aren’t you?” Sylvie asked.
“Yeah, but only because my sister brought me over, helped me find an apartment, and settled me in before she left.” Ade tightened her arms across her chest. “I couldn’t even make it through yesterday without you.”
Sylvie sat up. “Hey, not many people would have brushed yesterday off without a little help from friends. Don’t beat yourself up about that.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.” Sylvie desperately wanted to slip her arm around Ade’s shoulders and draw her into an embrace. She looked so in need of comfort. Instead, Sylvie flashed her biggest smile. “When do you feel at your most confident?”
“I think you already know the answer to that.”
Sylvie’s stomach skipped. Did Ade mean to say when they were together?
Ade blew across her coffee cup. “When I’m with the animals inthe lab. Or when I’m out in the water.”
“Right. Yes.” Sylvie nodded. Of course Ade wasn’t thinking of them together. They were just colleagues. There was no “together.” “Why is that, do you think?”
Ade chewed at her nail. “They don’t judge me, I guess. I get a lot of judgment from people sometimes.”
“You do? In what way?”
“Trust me, I’m self-aware enough to know I miss a ton of cues. You know, the way people look at each other and their tone. But there are some that are way too obvious to miss. I see the way people frown at me if I say something wrong.” Ade dropped her head. “I see way more frowns than anything else some days.”
Sadness washed over Sylvie. “And animals don’t frown?”
“Right.”
“Perhaps that frown isn’t always disapproval or judgment. Sometimes, people might be trying to work out what you mean. Or what they should say.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Ade nodded. “Hard to decipher which is which though.”
Sylvie sighed. She hated the thought of Ade feeling so alone. “I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel sad.”
Ade perked up, meeting her gaze. “You don’t make me feel sad, Sylvie. You’re one of the only people I’ve ever met that speaks in a way that I kind of get, most of the time. And your face?—”
“What?” Sylvie recoiled and touched her face.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m suddenly talking about your face.”
“Tell me. What’s wrong with my face?”
“Nothing. Not like that.” Ade laughed. “I just mean that your face is so clear. I know what you mean by looking at you. It’s not the same with other people.”
A contentment flowed deep inside Sylvie. No one had ever told her that her facial expressions were readable. It was a weird compliment. But from Ade, it meant the world. She loved that shecould relieve some of the agony of her failed communication, and that she made it a little easier to be understood.
In the silence, the room’s air grew closer, and Sylvie’s cheeks burned with the intensity of the moment. The electricity buzzed between them and Sylvie found a little something of herself, a meaning she didn’t know she was craving until that very second. Her ears popped with the pressure when she swallowed. “I’m glad for you.” They weren’t the words she’d intended. They fell flat, in a patronizing way she hadn’t meant. What she’d wanted to say was something like “me too.” But the right formation of sounds and letters eluded her.
