She forces my head up. “No hiding.”
I blink. But I can’t hide it. And she doesn’t flinch away from my emotions. If anything, it draws her closer. Opens her up yet more. I shake my head. “I don’t know what to say,” I whisper, eventually.
“How about you tell me what you were thinking about earlier.”
I duck my head and laugh, then meet her eyes again. “I’ll try.” I go back to what I was thinking about—acceptance and affection and all that. “So, warning…it’s pretty deep. Maybe even heavy. Definitely personal and…I don’t know. It’s a lot.”
“I can handle it, whatever it is.”
“I know you can. It’s just stuff I’ve never really thought about too much, and certainly never shared.”
“But you’re gonna share it with me?”
I nod. “I am.”
She settles backward again, water up to her chin. “I’m listening.”
“So, my parents.” I sigh and keep going. Once the words start, it gets easier. “They care about me. I grew up with a sort of understanding that Mom and Dad care about me. Right? Like, they’re my parents, of course they care about me. But…they’re not…emotive people.”
She laughs. “No kidding. I have noticed this.” She tilts her head to one side. “Funny thing is, in some way, I probably know them better than you do. Your parents, I mean. You left for college and you rarely came back. Whereas I’ve lived next door to them my whole life, and I see them pretty frequently, when they’re in town. They come over for drinks and we play pinochle.” Her face falls. “Or, we did, before Dad passed. Hard to play five-hand pinochle with only four people. And it wouldn’t be the same.”
She brightens, shakes her head to banish the sad reverie. “Anyway. Sorry, I hijacked the moment. You were saying?”
I smile at her. “So anyway…they never said that they cared. Or rarely. Certainly not Dad.” I shrug. “They showed me in other ways. Bought me literally anything and everything. Took me on vacations. Put me in karate and fencing lessons and riding lessons and all that shit, whatever it was I expressed interest in. But I never had to stick with anything. If I wanted to quit because I was bored, I quit.” I laugh, wave a hand. “Point is, that’s how they showed me affection. Buying me stuff, giving me what I wanted, when I wanted it. They…physical affection wasn’t something they did either. Once I was too big to be carried, and too old to need hugs and kisses when I hurt myself, that kind of stuff stopped.”
“That’s…actually really sad, Thai. Everyone needs hugs and kisses.”
I nod. “I’m not excusing, or even explaining, except maybe to myself. Maybe that’s why I turned to hooking up the way I did. Why I’ve never had a real relationship. Showing emotions, talking about emotions—it’s hard for me. Accepting it is even harder.”
“So, when I touch you, like nonsexual affection…”
I shrug, uncomfortable and hot under my skin and working hard to keep the honesty going, to give her the real me when so much of me wants to shut down, to distract, to avoid. “It’s…I don’t know what to do with it, Dee. It makes me feel like I’m…” I shake my head, searching for the right expression. “It makes my heart feel like it’s breaking open. But…because it’s so full. It’s kind of scary but…”
She smiles, beautiful, tender—that daring, emotional smile which makes me feel like my whole soul is going to overflow, burst out of my skin. Because it’s so lush and so lovely and real and beautiful and delicate and soft and it’s meant forme, and I want to hide from it as much as I want to hoard it and inscribe it on my mind and my heart so I never forget thatshecan smile atmethis way.
“Thai, I’m noticing something, here.”
“Okay?”
“You used the word ‘care.’” An arch of her eyebrow. “Your parents care for you. Showed you they care.”
I’m not following. Or…that’s what I’m trying to convince myself of, at least. “Okay, and?”
“And, you’re stopping short.”
I swallow hard. “Of what?”
“The correct word.” She rubs her forehead, and leaves bubbles trailing down her face; I brush them away, only to make it worse, and we both laugh. “I know my parentsloveme, Thai…my dadlovedme. He showed me he loved me, told me he loved me.”
My skin feels too tight for my face. My heart is hammering so hard it hurts. Under the water, my hands shake. “Dee…”
She sits upright, scuttles closer to me, hooks her legs around my waist and hers around mine. Clings to me, our soapy bodies slippery and warm against each other. “So when I do and say things that show you I…care…” She runs her hand over my hair. Soap trickles down my neck. Her breath is light and warm on my nose. Her breasts are soft against my chest. Her thighs squeeze my waist, like a hug. “That makes you uncomfortable?”
“Not uncomfortable, I just…it’s unfamiliar.” Truth requires bravery. “I crave it, Delia—but it’s scary.”
“That’s okay,” she says. “I’m not asking anything of you—and listen, it’s new and different and scary for me, too. We can take this slow.”
“That’s what’s scary, though, Delia—it’s not going slow. For me, in here.” I tap my chest.
