Chapter 12 #2
Whatever you do, don’t cry.
Or stammer or ramble.
Don’t give yourself away.
“I—” I heard my choked voice and looked frantically to the side, where I could escape the booth. Just as I started scooting over, I felt a soft, warm hand cover my clammy one.
“Roxy,” Mari whispered. “Please don’t go.”
I froze, my eyes glued to her hand, which slowly pulled back. I didn’t trust myself to respond, so I just nodded.
“I’m not asking this as your boss, Roxy. I know it feels like you have to manage everything alone—that you can’t be vulnerable with anyone.”
“But that’s BS,” Hazel chimed in. “You can trust us.”
My mouth struggled to form words. “I—it’s not that I don’t trust you.” I stopped and took a sip of water. “Don’t think that. But you are my bosses.”
Hazel frowned. “Does that mean we can’t be friends? We can’t be honest about what’s going on in our lives?”
“You say that, but …” I clenched and unclenched my hands to try to make them stop shaking. “Never mind,” I murmured.
“No, keep going,” she said.
Seeing my lips clamped shut, Mari sighed. “We’re not perfect at this either, you know. Hazel’s been my best friend for many years, but we screw up sometimes. We get caught up in life and love and … it’s not always perfect. And that’s OK.”
“I forgot Mari’s birthday one year. I know, who does that? But she spent years never telling me anything, so there’s that.”
Mari winced. “It’s true.”
“I forgot to try to call you during that big snowstorm earlier this year,” Hazel admitted, “but Mari barely heard from me either. I literally didn’t have a working phone and was just trying to survive one moment to the next as I was trapped in the house of the guy I thought hated me.
Still, I should’ve tried to reach you. I was pretty self-absorbed last winter, even more than usual,” she added wryly.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I understand.”
As both of them looked at me expectantly with gentle smiles, it hit me.
Maybe it was safe to talk to them.
Maybe I’d never know unless I tried.
Maybe it could even be worth it.
“I—I hear updates from Jeff, not you. Like when Peter was in the hospital, Hazel.” I swallowed with difficulty. “But I don’t expect anything, so that’s OK.”
This wretched feeling of vulnerability was killing me, but I forced myself to maintain eye contact with them.
“It’s OK to want more from people,” Mari said. “Sometimes it’s hard to ask because it’s like putting yourself on the line, right? But it can pay off a thousand-fold.”
“I know that in theory … I used to be a therapist.”
They both nodded, and I recalled I’d mentioned it once years ago. I guess they paid more attention than I realized.
“Well, I didn’t expect this to be a therapy session or intervention,” I said with a forced laugh. “I feel like I should pay you.”
Mari shook her head, her wavy bob sweeping from side to side. “You’re making it seem like no one would ever want to hang out with you unless you’re paying them, whether in money or labor. And I get it. I used to feel like that, actually. But it was just … my anxiety and internalized shame.”
My gaze traveled downward briefly and then back up. “My oldest friends.” I exhaled slowly, finally feeling my body relax a bit. “Thank you. I—I never talk about this stuff. I have two friends who know, but … well, one of them I’ve never met in person, and the other one I haven’t seen in years.”
“May I suggest something?” Mari asked tentatively.
“Sure,” I said, exhaling slowly and giving a half smile that was kind of genuine. “Not as my employer, right?”
She returned the smile. “Soon-to-be ex-employer, you mean. But yes, as your friend.”
The rush of warmth that coursed through me caught me off guard, so I just nodded, trying to calm my racing heart.
“Last year, I found an anxiety support group, and it had a huge impact on me and all the stuff I was trying to deal with. Have you ever looked into something like that for your social anxiety?”
My heart caught in my chest, and I must have looked like a deer in the headlights because she added, “Sorry, I am not trying to diagnose you. I have a business degree. I’m far from being a counselor.” She chuckled. “It just sounded like social anxiety to me, but maybe I’m wrong. ”
Unable to do anything else, I forced myself to breathe in and out.
“This is hard, Rox,” said Hazel. “I get it. I haven’t struggled with that issue myself, but I’ve had plenty of other challenges in life. And sometimes it’s hard talking about things, even for an extrovert like me.”
“Thanks,” I managed to say. “To answer your question, Mari, no, I haven’t. It’s weird sometimes when you’re a therapist because it feels like all the stuff you tell your clients—all the ways you can help them—like it doesn’t apply to you.”
They nodded and just looked at me, waiting for me to say more. “Uh, I guess I could look into it.”
“Can we help? I have the Meetup app on my phone,” Hazel said eagerly.
“I don’t … I guess so,” I muttered as she typed away on her screen, not waiting for my answer.
Soon her face lit up even more, her brown eyes sparkling as she looked from the phone to me. “Found one! It’s for people with social anxiety. Looks like they have dinners, meet ‘n’ greets, and even fun outings like mini-golf.”
“Right here in Shipsvold?” Mari asked.
“Oh, no. We’re too small. The group leader’s actually over in Shellington, but they meet in different towns because their members are kind of spread out.
” She paused, her eyes scanning the screen.
“Oh! It looks like they’re meeting here in two weeks!
A few days after Halloween. Don’t worry.
It’s not Halloween-themed. I’ll sign you up. ”
“Oh, uh … OK.” My head was spinning as I tried but failed to process all this.
“That reminds me! Peter and I are hosting a Halloween party this year. Well, it’s mostly me, but he goes along with it. Want to come?”
“You can say no. I know I will be,” Mari said dryly.
Hazel’s head swiveled toward her best friend. “You are coming.”
Mari chuckled. “We’ll see. You know I hate Halloween. ”
“If it wasn’t for that Halloween party I dragged you to last year, you wouldn’t have reconnected with Pinecone!”
Mari rolled her eyes and turned to me. “Terry was dressed as a pinecone, and Hazel never let go of it.”
Hazel just smiled at us both. “It’s up to you, Roxy. I hope to see you there.”
I wrestled with how to respond. I had to say no—it was bad enough they’d be expecting me to go to the Christmas party in two months.
I was usually good at coming up with excuses to avoid social gatherings, but I felt like I’d been laid bare this morning.
My self-defenses were lowered, destroyed even.
“Uh, I don’t know.”
Mari gave me a knowing smile. “Fair enough. Don’t pressure her, Haz. Then she definitely won’t come.”
I forced my lips to curve into a smile. “We’ll see. I appreciate the offer.”
I’d think of a way out of the party—I always did.
But she signed me up for the social meetup group. Maybe I should actually do that. I didn’t want to be lonely forever. What was stopping me?