18. Trust Me #3
“I know. Gossip is poison in this world. I’ve seen it destroy better men than me.
I took a chance on you because I believe in you.
In your gift.” I let my hand fall away. “Which is why I don’t understand how someone as talented as you is…
struggling.” I don’t say the word that sits heavy on my tongue. Saying it will make it too real.
Her throat bobs as she swallows another sip of tea. “You would never understand.”
“Then help me,” I whisper.
She holds my stare, unblinking. “I don’t know how to explain it, except…
it’s been carefully woven into me. Crafted.
My brother and sister got the carbs, the treats, the fun.
” Her mouth twists. “I inherited my mother’s washed-up dream of being a ballerina.
She controlled everything—what I wore, how my hair was pinned, what I ate, how much I ate. ”
Eleanor exhales, a hollow sound. “My life around food was always planned. Nothing more, nothing less.” A small line forms between her brows. “Then Soren—my coach at the Metropolitan—said I looked like a whale on stage. And I guess… I didn’t look back after that.”
The sound of Soren’s name makes my blood boil. I know him, and men like him in this industry, who use fragile girls to satisfy their own egos. I trace the rim of my cup with a finger. “So… when did it become nothing less?” I echo her words softly.
She shakes her head and lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “After I got fired… I became determined to find another company. And after so many no’s, I pushed myself. I didn’t want to let myself go in the waiting, you know?”
I nod, not really understanding, but wanting her to continue.
“And then I got hired, and I was so… elated.” Her whole face lights up with the memory. Her shoulders lift, and her eyes shine. But just as quickly, the light fades away. “But my mother was disappointed. She said I was going backwards in my career by going to a small company.”
She lifts her cup and takes a long sip, maybe to hide behind it.
“The night I got hired, she said I looked great. At that point I’d only lost a couple of pounds.
” A small, almost shy smile curves her lips, like she’s reliving it.
“It made me happy to see her proud of me for once.” The smile falls, and her hands tighten on the cup.
“So I kept going. I guess you could say… until I lost control of it.”
My jaw clenches. I want to say something, anything, but no words feel big enough to hold the weight of what she’s just handed me. But I need to know. “Yesterday…” I start, hoping she knows the moment I’m alluding to. “How many times do you do… that?”
A faint blush rises to her cheeks. “That was the first time,” she mumbles quietly.
I let out a sigh of relief. At least she doesn’t purge herself all the time. Maybe I caught her in time. “That’s good,” I voice, mostly to myself.
She shrugs helplessly. “Is it?” She traces a crack in the wooden table. “I don’t have what you do. How you can have bad things happen to you, but still show up happy.” She wrinkles her nose. “I’m just not like that.”
I contemplate my next words carefully. A beat of silence envelopes us, until the words come to me.
“You think I’m happy because nothing touches me,” I voice softly, “but that’s not true. I’ve had my share of grief—more than I care to carry. The difference isn’t me, Eleanor.” I lean forward, lowering my voice. “It’s Him.”
Her brows furrow. “Him?”
“God,” I state simply, not flinching from her gaze. “When the worst happened in my life, when I thought I couldn’t get up again, He carried me. My joy isn’t because my life is easy. It’s because He’s faithful, even when everything else falls apart.”
Her lips part slightly, as if she wants to argue but doesn’t know what to say.
“I don’t expect you to understand that right now,” I add, gentle but certain. “But the truth is—you don’t have to fight this alone. You were never meant to.”
She tilts her head, eyes narrowing. “How do you know?”
I tilt my head to the side, confused by her question. “What do you mean?” I ask.
“What it feels like.” She laces her fingers together. “You say God got you through your hard times—that He’s always with you, but how do you know? What does it feel like to know?”
I don’t know how to answer her question, because in all honesty, it’s different for everyone. But an idea comes to me, and I hope that it’s enough to answer her question. “I can’t explain it in words… but I can show you.”
She raises an eyebrow, likely confused by where I’m going with this.
I rise from my chair, drop some cash on the table, and extend my hand towards her. “Come with me?”
She stares at my outstretched hand like it’s a foreign object, hesitation flickering across her face. “Where?”
I smile, just enough to soften her suspicion. “To show you what I mean. Trust me.”
Her fingers hover in her lap, tightly laced together. For a moment I think she’ll refuse, bury herself back in the safety of her teacup. But then slowly, almost reluctantly, she slides her hand into mine.
Warmth spreads through me at the simple touch. I curl my fingers gently around hers, steady but not demanding, and help her from the chair.
“I don’t know what you’re planning,” she mutters under her breath, though I catch the faintest tremor of curiosity in her tone.
“You don’t have to,” I reply. “Just… come.”
Eleanor
Nik’s hand is warm in mine. I hold on to it for dear life, having no idea where he’s taking me. I find myself thinking about what he said about trust, and I can’t help but feel like the more I’m around him, the more I do trust him.
He leads us toward the exit, and my curiosity piques more now than ever. Are we… going out in the rain?
He pushes the door open, and the storm’s roar surrounds us. The awning does little to shield us, and the rain falls so hard it bounces back from the pavement, soaking my ankles.
He turns to me, water cascading down his face. “I can’t tell you what following God feels like, but… I think this is pretty close.” His hand tightens around mine as he tugs me into the downpour.
My instinct is to pull back, to cling to control, to avoid the mess. But his joy is contagious, impossible to resist.
“It… it feels like being free.” He grins, utterly drenched, eyes alive. “It feels like dancing in the rain.”
I laugh, and wipe the water from my eyes. “Are you crazy?”
He shrugs, skipping along the soaked pavement. “Maybe a little.” He grabs my hand once more. “Come on.”
Nik drags me near the fountain just beyond the café. The lights from the stores cast a glow along the ground.
“Go ahead and dance, Eleanor.” He smiles at me, making a few ridiculous moves that pull a laugh from me.
“I—I can’t” I try to think of an excuse. “What if I get hurt?”
He steps closer, just enough for me to hear him over the loud rain. “You won’t. Don’t try to be perfect. If you try, you’ll slip and fall, but if you just… dance—like no one’s watching, you’ll be just fine.” A broad smile crosses his face. “Now come on, show me what you got Montgomery.”
Hearing my last name in his voice sends something unfamiliar through me.
Almost as much as the nickname he called me earlier. But I can’t deny that I like it.
“Fine,” I shout over the roar of the rain.
I do a lousy twirl. It isn’t meticulous, and it’s way off balance. I do a few more, just to prove I’ve done enough, when I start to enjoy it. The feeling of it all. I’m not trying. I keep spinning, feeling the freezing rain pelt my skin. I feel happy, free even.
Once I finish, I search for Nik through the haze of the rain, just to find him staring at me, his grin wide.
“That was great!” He shouts toward me.
I giggle. “It was fun!” I shout back at him.
He strides toward me, wiping away the stray hair that’s stuck to the sides of my face. “Feel’s good, doesn’t it?”
I nod, laughing despite myself.
“Do you still trust me?” He asks, voice low.
“I do,” I answer. There isn’t anything that can kill my joy right now.