12. Demi
Images of Cannon standing close to me in the kitchen, his face moving toward mine, kept replaying in my mind over and over. He’d been so close to kissing me, and I’d been so close to letting him. I should probably be grateful we had been interrupted. A kiss from Cannon was sure to wreck me for all future kisses. And a kiss from Cannon would be just a kiss, nothing more behind it. As badly as I wanted to kiss him, did I really want it to not mean anything?
Cannon was as locked down as the White House. Just because he wanted to kiss me didn’t mean I was getting a VIP pass to walk through the many doors he kept closed at all times.
For a second today, when he’d gone somewhere else in his mind, I had hoped he might open up to me, but that thought had left before it could fully form. All I could do was continue to be his friend, keep assuring him I wasn’t going anywhere. West had had to prove himself, and I assumed I would have to do the same. If it was going to take who-knows-how-long to get to the point when we were the type of friends who shared the darkest parts of us, the hidden parts, the parts we only whispered about in our minds, then I had no hope of us ever moving on anywhere past friendship.
My phone lit up, illuminating the dark room in a soft white glow from where it sat charging on the nightstand.
It was almost midnight, and I couldn’t think of any reason for me to be receiving notifications at this hour. I sat up and checked the screen to see that I had a text from Cannon.
I stared at the screen, reading his name over and over, as if it might eventually disappear.
He never texted me.
We never texted each other. I could count on one hand the number of times we had texted.
My heart raced at simply the thought of him having sent me a text, and I unplugged my phone, lying back down in my bed. Tapping on the message, I read his text.
Cannon: Are you awake?
I could see our last text conversation had been almost five months ago when I’d been trying to get ahold of West. He had turned his phone off to spend a whole day with Halle without any distractions, and I’d never not been able to reach him, so in my worry, I had texted Cannon.
I typed out my response.
Me: Yes.
The dots appeared immediately, his reply coming up quickly.
Cannon: Hi.
I smiled. Was he just texting me to say hi? Or was he thinking about me too, about our almost-kiss?
Me: Hi. :)
My heart continued to race as I waited to see what he would say next.
Cannon: Are you having late night Mario Kart withdrawals, or is that just me?
Me: LOL
Me: I’m definitely experiencing symptoms of withdrawal.
In the short time we’d been living together, we’d already gotten into a routine of staying up late together. It had quickly become my favorite part of my days. And it had nothing to do with Mario Kart and everything to do with Cannon.
Cannon: Glad I’m not the only one.
Me: Who knew Mario Kart could be so addictive?
And by Mario Kart, I meant Cannon.
Cannon: Yes, it’s very addictive. So addictive that I can’t stop thinking about it.
My breaths were now increasing as well. His words had me feeling like he wasn’t talking about Mario Kart either. I wanted to say something flirty back, but I was struggling to know how to navigate this new side of our relationship, this new side to Cannon I had only ever seen him use with other women, not me.
Me: I wonder if there are Mario Kart Anonymous group meetings we could attend.
Cannon: LOL
Cannon: I have a feeling once you play Mario Kart, there’s no going back.
Me: Me too.
Cannon: I’m pretty sure your brother wouldn’t approve of my obsession with Mario Kart.
Cannon: Nor would your dad, for that matter.
Wow. He was really going there. I couldn’t believe he was actually talking to me about this. I mean, it was through text and under the pretense of a video game, but still. It was a big deal for him to put out there what he was feeling and thinking. My heart swelled at his use of the word obsession. Is that what he felt? Or was he exaggerating in this analogy we were using to mask our true feelings?
Me: You don’t think they would be supportive?
Cannon: Not with my background or how I’ve gone from one video game to the next.
His background? I wasn’t sure what he was referring to, other than how he never talked about his life before his grandfather had stepped in.
I did know, all too well, how he was known for going from woman to woman. West would have a hard time accepting that Cannon would be able to do anything different.
As I tried to figure out what to say, the dots appeared on the screen, signaling he was typing again. They kept disappearing and reappearing, and I wondered what he was struggling to put into words. I waited to see if he’d ever push send.
Eventually his text came through.
Cannon: And not with how I’m too broken to take the game seriously, to give it my all.
Although we were using Mario Kart as a code word, this might be the most real conversation we’d ever had.
Is that how he saw himself? Broken?
Knowing he was a few steps away from me across the hall, I struggled to talk myself into staying in my bed and not going to him. I hated the thought of him viewing himself as broken. What had happened to him? I obviously didn’t know, but to me there was nothing broken about him. I’d always viewed him as this smart, confident, fun-loving guy who maybe seemed lost at times but never broken.
Before I could respond, another text message came through.
Cannon: In all seriousness, I’m sorry about what happened while we were cleaning the kitchen tonight. I took it too far, and I apologize.
His sudden change, from suggesting he wished there was more between us than friendship to now insinuating our almost kiss had been a mistake, spun me for a loop.
The only way I felt I could save face was to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal.
Me: Don’t worry about it. I know you are a notorious flirt, the ever-charming ladies’ man.
There. That hopefully sounded unaffected.
Cannon: You think I’m charming?
Of course he would pick that word to focus on. I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see me.
Me: Unfortunately, yes.
I wondered if I should be so honest, but it wasn’t like I was the first person to tell him that.
Cannon: What else do you think I am?
I debated how to answer his question. Did I keep things light and flirty, our main go-to? Or did I take our conversation back to real things, back to a place where I so desperately wanted him to feel safe with me?
Me: I think you are a lot of things, but one thing I think you are not is broken.
I pushed send and held my breath, waiting for his reply. It came sooner than I’d thought it would, and I hoped he wouldn’t shut me out.
Cannon: But I am, Demi. Sometimes I feel so broken that it seems like there is no hope to put me back together. And then, if by some miracle I could be made whole again, who would ever want someone covered in cracks?
I blinked back tears as I reread his words.
Oh, Cannon.
I looked to my door, wondering if I should just go to him, but I feared if I did, he’d shut down. There was a freedom brought by texting in the dark, and it might be the only reason he was letting himself be vulnerable with me.
His feelings of brokenness reminded me of something I’d come across in my travels during my gap years.
Me: Have you ever heard of kintsugi?
Cannon: No. Is that a real word?
I chuckled.
Me: Yes. Kintsugi is a Japanese art that puts broken pottery pieces back together using gold. You can see all the gold lines where the broken pieces were melded together, making it whole again but more beautiful for having been broken.
Cannon: I’ve never heard of that.
Me: It’s symbolic of embracing our flaws and imperfections.
Me: I don’t know what you’ve been through or what has made you think you are broken, but I believe the pieces can be put back together, making them stronger and more beautiful than before.
Cannon: I understand what you’re saying, and in theory it sounds great, but I’m not sure where to even start. It’s easier to push away the unwanted thoughts, to push people away, to pretend I’m fine. If I keep myself busy and keep myself surrounded by people, it’s easy to stay distracted.
He’d been in survival mode for so long, it was understandable that he didn’t know how to get out, to do anything different.
Me: That makes sense. Maybe you could start small. Just talking to someone can help. It doesn’t have to be me. It could be West, or a therapist, someone you feel like you can trust.
Cannon: Yeah. I’ll think about it.
Cannon: Thanks for talking with me tonight. It helped with my withdrawals. ;)
Me: Anytime.
I set my phone back on the nightstand, plugging the charger back in.
Resting back against my pillow, I thought about Cannon even more than I had been before. My heart ached for him. It ached for how he viewed himself, for how hopeless he felt, for how alone he thought he was, and for how he didn’t feel like anyone would ever want him.
His devastatingly good looks aside, any girl would be interested in him. He was successful, funny, kind, and thoughtful. Although you couldn’t really put his looks aside because he was gorgeous.
He had some hurdles he would need to overcome, but that didn’t make him of less worth. I just hoped he would let someone help him, someone who would help him realize he could set down the burden he thought he had to carry.
I wasn’t naive enough to think or hope I could be that somebody, but that didn’t stop my mind from wanting it to be a possibility. My feelings for him were deepening despite my efforts to keep them reigned in, and conversations like tonight didn’t have me wanting to run away from him like he feared. Instead they had me wanting to run head-first into his world. He wanted to keep things playful in the shallow end, assuming that if we swam out to the deep end, I might drown, but I wasn’t afraid to swim. With him I was ready to dive deeper.