slip back on my bed, but he won’t sit. His eyes pierce through me like a sword.
“You said this was something that was reserved for marriage.” He’s still looking at me. I smile softly. It turns out that all those times I scolded him for taking sex so lightly, he was listening. I almost wish he wasn’t. He runs his hands through his hair and looks at me. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I don’t want you to resent me. These aren’t whims with you. It’s part of who you are. I can’t do this to you.”
I’m kneeling on the bed, looking at him. My eyes sweep over his face. He means well. Trystan wants to protect me. I understand, and I know he won’t change his mind. “You’re too good for me.”
He laughs. It sounds so haunted and bitter that it kills me. “I doubt it. I heard I’m made of snails and puppy dog tails.” Trystan grins at me and winks, quickly covering the emotions that played across his face seconds ago.
I lay back in my bed and he pulls up my blank ets and tucks me in. Then, he settles on my floor at the foot of my bed. The clock ticks off the minutes, but I can’t sleep. My eyes are wide open. After what feels like forever, I say, “Trystan?”
“Mmm?”
My throat is tight. “How do you manage everything? I mean, no one has any idea and you never give the slightest indication that anything is wrong.
“ Some days I feel like I’m going to fall apart. You never seem weak like that. How do you do it? How do you brush off the fact that the people who are supposed to love you the most, don’t love you at all?” My lip is quivering. Although I’ve thought it, I never had the guts to say it before. “I know they don’t love me. I know they resent me, but I still can’t accept it. I keep hoping that one day they’ll really see me and love me for who I am, but that day never comes.”
By the time I finish talking, I’m whispering. I don’t want to admit th e words to anyone, but I do. As I speak, the words crush me. The bitter truth is that I feel guilty that my parents don’t love me. I feel like it’s my fault. For a long time, I thought that if I was better or smarter—I thought that I could earn their love—but it didn’t happen. Nothing changed. I stare at my ceiling without blinking. Thoughts stream from my head like rainwater down a gutter.
Trystan sits up. He’s at the foot of my bed on the floor, looking up at me. His hair dried into that messy look he always wears. Pulling his knees into his chest, Trystan leans back against the side of my bed. “I think that’s the key—admitting that the day will never come. It’s the hardest part it. Hope just rips your heart apart with shit like this.
“ There is no hope. There is no peace. Accepting it makes it easier to wade through the day to day stuff. But, I’ve done a crappy job at hiding it lately. My old man locked me in my room the other day after tossing all my things. He does stuff like that from time to time. It’s supposed to remind me of my place. He says that over and over again, like it’s a lesson that I need to learn. I know my fucking place.”
Trystan takes a deep breath and runs both hands over the back of his neck, stretching as he does it. “Tucker figured it out. For the past few weeks he’s been hinting, telling me it’s okay to talk to him, but they don’t get it. Dragging it out for everyone to see will just make it worse.
And I’ve got no right, but it makes me mad. Where was Tucker ten years ago? Where was he five years ago? It would have made a difference then. It won’t do a goddamn thing now.” Trystan startles and looks over his shoulder. His eyes meet mine. He smiles, sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to say all that.”
I shrug. “It needed to be said.”
“How do you do that?” He stands and sits on the end of my bed.
“Do what?”
“How do you make me feel like this? I can be talking about the most horrible thing that ever happened to me, but with you here,
“You said this was something that was reserved for marriage.” He’s still looking at me. I smile softly. It turns out that all those times I scolded him for taking sex so lightly, he was listening. I almost wish he wasn’t. He runs his hands through his hair and looks at me. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I don’t want you to resent me. These aren’t whims with you. It’s part of who you are. I can’t do this to you.”
I’m kneeling on the bed, looking at him. My eyes sweep over his face. He means well. Trystan wants to protect me. I understand, and I know he won’t change his mind. “You’re too good for me.”
He laughs. It sounds so haunted and bitter that it kills me. “I doubt it. I heard I’m made of snails and puppy dog tails.” Trystan grins at me and winks, quickly covering the emotions that played across his face seconds ago.
I lay back in my bed and he pulls up my blank ets and tucks me in. Then, he settles on my floor at the foot of my bed. The clock ticks off the minutes, but I can’t sleep. My eyes are wide open. After what feels like forever, I say, “Trystan?”
“Mmm?”
My throat is tight. “How do you manage everything? I mean, no one has any idea and you never give the slightest indication that anything is wrong.
“ Some days I feel like I’m going to fall apart. You never seem weak like that. How do you do it? How do you brush off the fact that the people who are supposed to love you the most, don’t love you at all?” My lip is quivering. Although I’ve thought it, I never had the guts to say it before. “I know they don’t love me. I know they resent me, but I still can’t accept it. I keep hoping that one day they’ll really see me and love me for who I am, but that day never comes.”
By the time I finish talking, I’m whispering. I don’t want to admit th e words to anyone, but I do. As I speak, the words crush me. The bitter truth is that I feel guilty that my parents don’t love me. I feel like it’s my fault. For a long time, I thought that if I was better or smarter—I thought that I could earn their love—but it didn’t happen. Nothing changed. I stare at my ceiling without blinking. Thoughts stream from my head like rainwater down a gutter.
Trystan sits up. He’s at the foot of my bed on the floor, looking up at me. His hair dried into that messy look he always wears. Pulling his knees into his chest, Trystan leans back against the side of my bed. “I think that’s the key—admitting that the day will never come. It’s the hardest part it. Hope just rips your heart apart with shit like this.
“ There is no hope. There is no peace. Accepting it makes it easier to wade through the day to day stuff. But, I’ve done a crappy job at hiding it lately. My old man locked me in my room the other day after tossing all my things. He does stuff like that from time to time. It’s supposed to remind me of my place. He says that over and over again, like it’s a lesson that I need to learn. I know my fucking place.”
Trystan takes a deep breath and runs both hands over the back of his neck, stretching as he does it. “Tucker figured it out. For the past few weeks he’s been hinting, telling me it’s okay to talk to him, but they don’t get it. Dragging it out for everyone to see will just make it worse.
And I’ve got no right, but it makes me mad. Where was Tucker ten years ago? Where was he five years ago? It would have made a difference then. It won’t do a goddamn thing now.” Trystan startles and looks over his shoulder. His eyes meet mine. He smiles, sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to say all that.”
I shrug. “It needed to be said.”
“How do you do that?” He stands and sits on the end of my bed.
“Do what?”
“How do you make me feel like this? I can be talking about the most horrible thing that ever happened to me, but with you here,
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