32. Gratitude
32
Gratitude
I found a nice local therapist of German descent with a clean office, telehealth options, and a countenance mixed somewhere between a distant, thoughtful grandmother and a no-nonsense professor. We talked every other day when she could squeeze me in with the intention of adjusting to once a week, then once a month, especially since I no longer had True Tech health insurance.
“Maybe I should’ve waited to quit,” I joked.
“Do you want to go back?” she asked, pushing her clear-rimmed glasses up.
“I…don’t miss the job,” I said, wrapping myself in a non-fleece hoodie.
“But the people? The purpose?” she prodded.
“Yes.” I supposed I did. “Especially the toy demonstrations,” I said quietly.
They were bound to ramp up as the holidays inched closer. Thanksgiving was in two days. At least Kat and Victor had attempted to play games with me to take my mind off everything.
“Do you miss the emotions of those around you? The carefree child in your memories? Or is it more about the distraction?” the therapist asked.
I shrugged and slumped at my desk. It wasn’t just nostalgia or the bright, funny guy with dimples. “He was always more than a distraction.”
“He was a comfort.” She nodded. “A friend, at least the way you saw him. Perhaps he is used to that role, as you became used to being a loner. It’s hard to break out of those boxes in which we see ourselves, especially with reinforcement. But we must, if we want to grow.”
“Yeah.” I picked at the edge of my dark phone. Everything was fine in that box until it wasn’t.
“Do you want to call him?” she asked.
“No.” That was way too personal. “Maybe text. But even then, I’m not sure what to say. I’m not sure if I should move on and let him live. I’m…a lot. I just wish I could be there for him in something unrelated to his ex like making her present and distracting him with our arrangement had been. I want to help him.” A sharp pang shot through my chest, and I scoffed. “I know that’s unlikely, since I can barely help myself from having emotional breakdowns on a regular basis.”
“You're working on it,” she said, in a way all too close to the way he did. “Sometimes if we break, it is our brains and bodies saying something needs to change: medicine, situations, and mindsets. We make modifications.”
Well, I’d always been good at modding games. “Maybe I could text him,” I said.
But that didn’t seem like enough.
I closed out of the telehealth tab and booted up a game, accidentally clicking Craft Cove from my Recent Games list.
“Shit,” I muttered. But at least I could log in for the special event.
You have a gift!
I snorted. Sure, building faulty robots and custom crafts that broke up relationships .
But while I did have special gifts from the game devs, I also had one from a friend.
Sal’s avatar waved at me. “Thought you could use this.”
It was a rudimentary, custom turkey plush. Tom. My friend.
I squealed, then covered my mouth. Why would he do this? Weren’t we no longer friends? Was this pity or…something better?
I lowered my shaking hands and set the plush on an altar in my virtual home. That mall elf had said something about how the way someone made you feel was the most important thing in the world. Well, there was only one person I knew who warmed his heart like this.
I researched his grandparents and the old store, then got to work. The next few days, I barely left my room except to eat leftover pizza and say hi to Kat and Victor, who exchanged puzzled glances every time I asked how she was, then trotted off to my laptop again. My eyes burned from screen exposure, but I was on limited time.
The next morning, Victor knocked at my door. He dressed up in a black vest with gold detailing and an aristocratic black, silky shirt underneath. His hair was coiffed, but askew. Very gentlemanlike. It was almost admirable how much he wanted to look good for his girlfriend.
He frowned at my sleep sweats. “Aren’t you coming?”
I furrowed my brow at him. “To where?” Had I promised to third-wheel on a date?
“The Silver’s,” he growled.
I closed my eyes and rubbed my aching forehead. “Right.”
“You forgot about Thanksgiving?” he scoffed.
I had forgotten we were fighting about it, to be honest. I sighed and leaned against my door. “I don’t think I should go.”
“Why? Because you overslept? Or is it because you don’t know them? You’d rather we stay separate from others forever? ”
“No, but Kat is your person.” I held up my hand before he could puff up his chest too much. “Not to say that I don’t enjoy her friendship. I’m grateful for it. But this is a moment for you two to debut as a couple to her parents. I’m sure her sister is kind and lovely. But maybe I’m not the best in all social situations yet, and none of us need the added pressure of holiday expectations or censoring family members. However, I would love to have dinner with them on a non-holiday occasion.”
“You would?” His nostrils flared like he wasn’t sure he took my word for it.
“Yes. How about a few weeks from now? I figure we’ll be spending future holidays together, so I might as well get to know them.” I smiled and tweaked the metal square cross at the base of his neck to make it even.
His Adam’s apple bobbed, his downward gaze shielded by thick lashes. “Yes. I…would like that.”
Forever with his partner. Future holidays. Such a romantic.
I propped my fists on my hips. “Have fun. I’m sure you’ll charm them as a dapper gentleman.”
He smoothed his lapels. “I aim to please Kat, at least. The store is only open for another hour, and I want to buy flowers for her family.”
“That’s sweet.” How was he related to me? “Happy Thanksgiving,” I said.
“Happy Thanksgiving.” He blinked softly and bowed ever-so-slightly.
We eyed each other, calculating if a hug was appropriate, then he patted my head. “Don’t forget to shower,” he said.
“You stink more than me,” I said. Even if his stench was more cologne and sage than B.O and energy drinks. I nudged his arm as he smirked and strode off to his happily-ever-after.
Where could I get something like that?
I returned to my overheated computer still running Craft Cove. It wasn’t a hundred percent ready, but I was getting there. The problem was, I had no idea what to do with it. Take down the walls and silently let him find it? Ask him if he logged in for his daily credits?
I sighed and slid my phone open. Maybe a simple bridge was best to rebuild some kind of friendship over text.
Me: Happy Thanksgiving.
I was such an idiot. Of course he wouldn’t see this until later. He had his whole damned family to entertain. To my surprise, he replied before I could set my phone down.
Sal: Happy Thanksgiving [turkey emoji] Are you coming by my family’s, by chance?
Me: I didn’t think it’d be appropriate.
Sal: No, it’s fine. Grab some grub. You don’t even have to talk to anyone if you don’t want to. Except maybe my Uncle Paulie, since there’s no way to avoid it. There’s just something you left behind when you quit, and I’d like to get it to you at some point. Doesn’t have to be today.
I didn’t think I'd left anything.
Me: What is it? And why is it at your parents’ place?
The now-typing ellipses loaded and disappeared, winding up my chest.
Sal: It's complicated.
Why would it be complicated? He texted me the address.
Sal: I’ll leave it in the china cabinet so you can see for yourself.
Why was he showing off my stuff in a glass cabinet? I didn’t leave anything except my heart with him. Now I had a chance to get it and this mystery item back.