45. Simone
Simone
Somehow, Lydia convinced me to take as many classes together as possible this year that we could, which means a lot of psychology and criminal justice courses that align with her new social work major.
Granted, I’m more than happy to spend as much time with her as possible, especially with being so busy with Greek life, the law firm, and other schoolwork.
After everything that happened at the end of the last school year, I really just want to be around her as much as possible.
Plus, with my mind set on law school, it doesn’t really matter what I major in, just as long as my grades are strong and my classes can build the skills I will need that law school cares about.
So far, I haven’t hated the class. It’s been pretty interesting to learn about a lot of the ways our childhood affects us—especially when trauma is involved. It’s given me even more understanding and empathy for Lydia and people who have gone through similar experiences growing up.
Even Mason.
The most trauma I knew growing up was…what, not having my dad hug me or tell me he loves me enough?
Doesn’t really seem comparable.
My mom was the one who ran the house. She was very strict with me, and I was a pretty sheltered kid because of that. She never wanted me to go through some of the things she experienced growing up.
So I guess that’s why I never really got put in any situations to experience the trauma others have gone through.
But I still understand pain. I think that’s universal. My empathy has always been pretty high for others. I just want to fiercely protect the people I love.
Our professor clicks to the next slide on her laptop before going back to standing at the center of the room.
“Something that we see repeatedly in family systems,” she says, pacing slowly at the front of the lecture hall, “is what we call the role adoption theory. Children—especially emotionally attuned ones—often step into roles they were never meant to be in at their age, specifically in their adolescent years.”
I go from mindlessly writing down notes to actually paying attention now.
“They are forced to become caretakers, mediators between adults or other family members, the peacekeepers in the family, the emotionally mature ones, or the anchor for people who should be their anchor.”
My pen hovers over the page, taking it all in.
“These roles don’t disappear in adulthood,” she continues.
“They evolve. And if they’re never examined, they can become patterns we repeat without realizing why.
Typically, in very unhealthy ways. You would think these skills learned early in life are beneficial in adulthood, but it’s actually the opposite.
When a child is forced into roles they aren’t emotionally or mentally ready for at their age, it will almost always backfire into self-destructive patterns.
They take on these roles at their own detriment throughout life. ”
The professor gestures toward the screen where a diagram shows overlapping circles labeled Attachment, Trauma, and Reinforcement.
“People who grow up in relatively stable environments are sometimes drawn to partners or friends who didn’t,” she says. “Not because they’re broken—but because familiarity doesn’t always mean similarity. Sometimes it means complementarity.”
I glance sideways at Lydia, who’s scribbling something in the margins of her notebook, brow furrowed in concentration. She’s listening hard. Always does. Like she’s afraid that if she misses something, it’ll cost her not just in class but in life.
“These individuals often believe—consciously or not—that love looks like fixing. That care means sacrifice. That staying is proof.”
I never understood when Lydia would say she felt like the class was talking directly to her…but I do now.
I still don’t understand it, though. Why do I keep loving people so deeply who are already bleeding?
It’s always a heartache when I can’t fix all the holes they have. And then that just makes me feel like I’m useless, as if I’m responsible for them getting better.
If they don’t, it’s on me—it means I didn’t do enough, that I’m to blame.
Mason’s face flashes in my mind without warning. The way his eyes always go distant when he thinks no one’s watching. The way he laughs too loudly, drinks too much, and hurts so quietly.
I see Lydia—the way I’ve tried to drag her through every phase of life and pain she’s had to go through.
I think about Camilla and how Lydia probably took on so much guilt for her sister’s death, even when it wasn’t hers to take.
Even my dad, in a way. Loving him always felt like waiting to get something he didn’t know how to give.
What does that all say about me?
The professor pauses, letting the room sit with it.
“Sometimes,” she says gently, “people who haven’t experienced overt trauma feel guilt for their relative safety. They seek pain externally, because they don’t understand why they feel so deeply when they shouldn’t.”
I swallow, connecting with that a little too closely.
Maybe I didn’t have enough fucked up shit happen to me growing up.
Maybe that’s the problem.
Maybe I’m some kind of sick, weirdo chasing pain because it makes me feel useful. Necessary. Worth something.
I’d lay myself down for every person I love if it meant they could breathe easier.
Why?
What’s wrong with me?
The professor clears her throat, pulling my attention back. “Alright. We’ll break into pairs for the activity I have prepared for you all.”
Chairs start moving as everyone finds a partner and waits for further instructions.
Lydia turns in her chair to face me. “I’m so happy we have classes together this year. It feels like things are slowly starting to feel…normal again.” She pauses, reflecting on that. “I can’t remember the last time things felt anywhere near normal.”
I give her a genuine smile. “I’m glad. I just wanna see you thriving, Lyd. I’m always happy to see my best friend happy. You deserve this phase of life to be more gentle to you.”
She lets out a little laugh. “Yeah, let’s hope it stays that way. My track record isn’t that great. But I’m trying…really hard to enjoy life again.”
“How are things?” I ask gently.
She lets a little grin peek through. “Things are good.”
I give her a teasing look. “And Bash? How’s that going?”
I see her starting to blush, even though she’s trying to hide it. “I don’t know what things are with him. But he’s sweet. Like really sweet, Sim. And he seems so genuine and caring. Almost to the point that it scares me, like it can’t be real, like I’m waiting around for the other shoe to drop.”
“Well, I think he’s a good guy. From what I’ve seen, at least. And Mason is always boosting him up. Says he’s a real stand-up guy.” I laugh a little to myself. “Sometimes I think he has a little bro crush on him.”
Lydia leans in to me. “Am I crazy for starting to like someone? After everything…is it even smart?”
“I don’t think I can tell you yes or no,” I tell her.
“All I know is that…I think you should give him a chance, give your heart a chance to open back up to the possibility of someone being gentle with you. I know you’ve been through a lot, and it’s normal to be cautious.
Just…just don’t shut yourself off to something that could be good because you’re scared of it turning bad.
If he hasn’t shown any red flags, don’t create them. ”
She just nods, taking that in.
“You’re so in love with him,” I whisper.
She gapes at me. “Love? No. You’re crazy. We barely know each other.”
“As much as he’s been around for already…I would say y’all know more of each other than most people do who have been together for years.”
“Well, we’re not together, and this isn’t love…yet.”
“Yet!” I squeal. “See. It’s written all over both of you.”
“You think he could love…me?” she asks. And I hate the self-doubt going through her head.
I reach out and grab her arm. “I think you’re one of the easiest people to love in this world. You have a beautiful soul, and you need to realize that.”
She gives me a shy, sheepish smile. “I’m trying to be better with the whole self-love thing.”
“Good. You need to remember what a badass you are.”
After our professor comes around, handing out project details for everyone, Lydia looks back up at me. “So…” she says, smiling.
“So what?” I ask.
She nudges me with her arm, grinning, and it makes me grin. “How’s your love life?”
My smile disappears.
“Nonexistent,” I tell her. “I don’t know if you forgot…but I was cheated on, remember?”
She gives me a no-shit look. “Yes, I remember. But…”
“But what?”
“But it’s been a while now. Hell, almost a year, Sim. And we’re in college. When are you gonna get back up on the ride?”
“You mean get back up on the horse?” I ask, laughing.
She waves me off. “Yeah, same thing, whatever. Point is, you have a lot of hot horses you could get on around here.” She pauses, grimacing. “Yeah, ride sounds better. You’ve got a lot of hot rides you could be on around here, especially with all the frat boys you’re constantly around.”
I can’t help but laugh at her. “Do I need to remind you how disgusting most of the frat boys are around here? Or did all the drugs cloud your memory?”
She looks at me appalled, and then we both laugh.
“Okay, fine. You have a point there. Frat guys probably aren’t the way to go. But they could be fun while you’re still nursing that broken heart of yours.”
I stare at my notebook. “I don’t think I’m ready.”
“College is kind of the perfect place to not take things too seriously,” she says.
I let out a humorless laugh. “Tyler messed with my head pretty badly. I don’t know if college is the place to find someone I can trust.”
She nudges my knee. “You don’t have to fall in love.”
I glance at her. “What, you think I should just sleep around?”
She laughs. “No. I know you’re not a meaningless hookup kind of girl.”
Mason’s face sneaks back in again.
That was the agreement, wasn’t it? Friends. No feelings. No expectations.
Just…him. And me.
I felt like I had him for a while, all to myself. Until it all blew up.
I think I just wanted him so badly, I convinced myself that was enough, that if I kept it small, I couldn’t get hurt. That was mistake number one. Thinking I could just give myself to him the way I did and not fall for him.
I haven’t heard from him since the Halloween party. He hasn’t even tried to reach out.
This is what he does, though. Something goes wrong, and he avoids it at all costs.
I really thought he was starting to care about me more than just as a friend. That’s why I said what I said on Halloween. It wasn’t to keep our arrangement in line…it was to see if he might feel what I felt.
Guess I’m just the dumbest girl on the planet when it comes to guys.
Lydia studies my face. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
She squints. “That’s a lie. Is there a boy you haven’t told me about?”
“What? No!” I laugh too quickly to play it off.
“You know, you’re always doing everything for everyone else,” she says quietly. “It’s okay to focus on you now, too. You deserve to be happy. And to have some fun.”
I smile, even though my chest aches.
“I’ll think about it,” I say.
But deep down, I already know. I don’t want fun. I want something that doesn’t hurt.
And for some reason, I keep choosing the opposite.