Lydia
I’ve been actively avoiding everyone since field day.
When I was back by myself, the thoughts started to suffocate me again.
I feel like the past will never leave me alone, like I’ll never end this cycle.
I’ve been keeping my distance from everyone, staying busy with school, and barely texting back…
especially when it comes to Bash. And he’s given me the space. He always does.
If I ask for space, he gives it to me. If I ask for comfort, he gives it to me. If I ask for anything…he gives it to me. He deserves for me to at least give him my honesty.
Bash: Of course. Where do you want to meet?
I don’t know where I want to meet. I don’t know what spot I want to taint with letting go of the best thing I’ve ever experienced. I don’t know where I want to break my own heart at.
Lydia: You pick a spot
Bash: Meet me at the group center, we’ll walk to a spot I know
Because I don’t know how to break a habit, and need this one last time, I text him what’s become my ritual when I’m down.
Lydia: Got a poem-verse for me?
A minute later, my phone lights up.
Bash: Psalm 139:11–12
“If I say, ‘Surely the darkness will cover me,’ even the darkness is not dark to You.”
I tip my head back at the slice of sky between buildings. If you’re up there, and you’re listening…and you care any…try to give me the strength to let go of one of the purest souls you’ve probably ever created…I wish you would have made me good enough for him.
I head back to my dorm after classes because, honestly, it’s the only place I want to be for the rest of the day.
The girls start their hovering routine as soon as I walk in.
I feel like I have two helicopter moms now, always trying to make sure I’m okay, make sure I’m not drowning, make sure I’m not going to go secretly running away from my problems and get high, make sure I’m not gonna go try to kill myself…
again. I hate how much I’ve made them have to worry about me, how much everyone always fucking worries about me.
We end up watching a movie with nail polish fumes filling the room and Lani’s thigh under my cheek like I’m twelve.
They try to be casual about it, but their eyes keep checking my breathing like I’m an infant that might forget how.
I tell them that I’m okay, that they don’t have to babysit me.
They tell me they just want to hang out.
We all lie.
Then I call them hovercrafts, and they laugh. Simone is finishing up drying my nail polish when I check the time on my phone and tell them I’m about to leave to meet up with Bash.
Simone coos. “You know, I really like him. He’s good for you. And that’s a lot coming from me because I am very, very protective of you,” she sighs. “But he’s sweet and kind and very attractive…and he adores the hell outta you.”
Lani perks up. “Has he asked you to be his girlfriend yet? God, I would kill to find someone that tall and that handsome…who’s also not an asshole to women.”
I roll my eyes at both of them. “We haven’t taken that step…”
I don’t think we ever will.
I go to walk out, and Lani pretends to go open one of the drawers, looking for something. “Do you need any condoms?” she asks, teasingly.
Simone slaps her leg, and Lani winces. “Ow, geez. What? I’m just making sure she’s being safe,” she says, pretending to be defensive. “I don’t even have any. I was looking in your drawer, Simone.”
Simone gasps at her.
“Y’all are a mess. I’ll text you if it gets late so you know I’m okay.”
“Have fun, Sweetie,” Lani sing-songs.
On the walk over, I practice a hundred versions of “It’s not you, it’s me.
You deserve better. I know we aren’t officially a couple or anything, but we probably shouldn’t go down that path because I’ll just end up hurting you.
We don’t have to be friends either. I have a lot of baggage to still work through right now.
” The words all feel like glass in my mouth.
I haven’t stopped thinking about what the right thing to do was since field day. Bash is too good for me…and I’ll never be good enough to give that back to him the way he deserves.
When I walk up to the building, people are already walking out.
I know he always has to stay behind for a little while, so I sit on one of the benches near the door.
I tip my head back against the brick wall and stare up at the night sky.
I squint a little to see the stars through all of the light pollution and get stuck in the trance of it all—how endless the sky is, how big, and how beautiful it all is up there, how the stars are always moving and finding new places to go, but to us, they’re just standing still, stuck in the same spot.
I guess sometimes what we perceive isn’t always what’s actually happening. We miss the movement, the change, the growth, all because it’s too far away for us to see it happening. We just assume it’s…not.
Is that how we are? Do we miss our own growth because it’s just slowly always happening, so we don’t even realize we’re changing? Not until we look back and see how far we’ve drifted from where we started.
I’m still looking up when I hear him say my name.
I turn, and there he is, tall, beautiful, kind eyes, the softest, sweetest smile, and the most perfect face.
My stupid heart launches itself at the sight of him.
He pulls me into a hug, and I feel that same ridiculous warmth and safety I get every single time I’m around him.
I wish I could live here. I wish I could keep this feeling. I wish this could be the whole story.
We start walking, and I just let him lead, not asking where the destination is. I don’t really want to get there if I’m being honest.
“How was group?” I ask, quietly.
He smiles over at me. It’s that smile he has whenever someone brings up a topic he’s excited to talk about. It’s so cute and childlike in the best way.
“It was good…really good,” he says, and then his voice turns that alive shade I’m addicted to. “Actually, I got to talking to my facilitator about an idea I had…”
I’ll never not want to hear him speak, so I ask, “What idea?”
He gets a little shy, and I hate how attractive it is to me when I see him get nervous.
“Um, well…I had this idea for on campus…where we’d put small stickers everywhere with the instruction to text something like “stay” to the number.
That would then hit a 24/7 campus line, which could be staffed by a clinician and trained peers who stay on call and rotate. Maybe even for a class assignment.”
I’m already listening intently to everything he’s saying.
“As soon as someone texts,” he goes on, “one of the peers would call and ask if they want someone to come sit with them. If they say yes, they drop a pin, and what we would call a ‘Sitter’ goes to them within ten minutes. The quicker the better in these situations.”
He glances at me to see if I’m tracking, and I nod.
“Sitters aren’t security guards or anything,” he says.
“They can just bring them water, a blanket maybe, a granola bar, and a safety-plan card. They’d stay for that ninety-minute danger window and help the person talk or just be there, lock away meds if the student wants, and make a basic plan with them.
No cops unless there’s any real safety issue, no paperwork. Just…their presence.”
Something tightens in my chest. I feel this pride for the boy I’m listening to, and also a little envy for something I wish I had when I needed it at my lowest moment.
He shifts, suddenly a little self-conscious about what he’s saying. “It’s not flashy or anything, but I think just having someone who doesn’t need to know or judge you, be there and know what to do that will help, could maybe save a life or two.”
My throat goes glassy. I swallow, and it doesn’t move.
“That’s…beautiful,” I manage to get out, and my voice wobbles a little. “It sounds like…the perfect place to land.”
I can’t stop the tears, but I try to wipe them away as we keep walking.
He stops, lightly grabbing my arm to stop me from walking too, and turns me towards him. His hands come up to my face, and he scans me, concerned. “What’s wrong? What happened? Was that too much? Did I trigger something? I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
I shake my head, laughing quietly through the tears. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. They’re happy tears…I think.”
He brushes them away and tilts my face up to meet his eyes and then smiles softly at me.
I let out a breath. “It’s a beautiful idea. It’s something…I wish I had when I needed it. I’m…proud of you. I’ve never met someone I was so inspired by before.”
He kisses me, and it feels so full of intentions, like all the words he hasn’t said out loud yet. I melt into it because I’m selfish and I want him, because he’s the only place my brain goes quiet in a way that isn’t dangerous.
He pulls back and studies my face. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I lie. “So, where are we going?”
He takes my hand, and we walk to the back corner of a building. He tips his chin to the football field that’s now glowing in front of us. He looks down at me and smiles. “Come on.”
He leads me onto the open field. It’s completely empty, completely silent, completely peaceful.
He throws his bag down on the turf and then sticks his hand out for me to give him my bag.
I shrug it off, handing it to him, and he places it on top of his bag so it won’t get dirty on the damp ground, and then pulls off his hoodie, tossing it onto the ground.
He points his hand down at it, gesturing for me to sit, then he sits down next to me, placing his hands behind him to prop himself up.
Our fingers are an inch apart, and all I want to do is tuck mine under his.
We just sit in the silence for a moment.
It’s not awkward or uncomfortable. It’s just him giving me the space for my thoughts to join us when they’re ready.
He eventually turns from staring up at the sky to looking over at me. “So…what’s going on in that beautiful head?”