Three #2
“Oh.” She hadn’t expected that. She hadn’t exactly known what to expect, but in her lived experience, people she told about professional cuddling generally fell into two main categories, the curious kind or the scoff/laugh kind.
She probably would’ve pegged Gillian as the latter, and she would’ve been wrong, but neither did she seem to be the former.
Standing there, eyes focused, the line of her lips completely even, she gave zero feedback, verbal or otherwise.
With nothing to push back or pull forward, Daphne floundered.
“I’ve been doing the work for a couple years near Syracuse, but family circumstances changed, and a move seemed right. My best friend found this office for me. I didn’t know anything about it, or you, when he signed the lease, but I’m here now.”
“You are.” Gillian nodded slowly.
“I’m already building my client base on referrals. I plan to open next week on a limited basis and grow from there, which is why I had to get the bed in … thank you for your help. Hard to snuggle people standing up, though it can be done.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Seriously?” Daphne’s annoyance piqued at another nonanswer.
“What?”
“I’ve never known you to take the placid track in any conversation. Are you seriously not going to comment on anything I’ve just told you?”
“Well …” She shifted slightly from one foot to the other.
“First of all, you haven’t known me for two decades and even then, I’m not sure we ever really knew each other.
Second, you challenged my professionalism with your little quip about remaining nonjudgmental, so I suppose I schooled my reaction accordingly. ”
“Ever the competitor. You’re crushing the whole neutrality thing,” Daphne muttered. “Shall I release you somehow, so you can speak freely?”
Gillian glanced heavenward for a second as if considering the offer or maybe praying for guidance, but when she met Daphne’s eyes again, there was nothing and no one between them.
“Daphne, I never let myself be held to any constraint without my consent. I’ve made a deliberate choice over the years to meet people where they are, or at least I strive to.
Life and work have afforded me plenty of opportunity to practice, and now you’re here with a … what did you call it … a ‘snuggery’?”
The word twisted Gillian’s mouth slightly, and something cold coiled in Daphne’s chest. “Yes.”
“That’s your reality, and now it’s part of mine. I’m choosing to accept those facts and allowing each of us the space to make our own meaning, unless you’d like me to help facilitate the process for you.”
“I am perfectly clear about what meaning I make about my own life.” Daphne tried not to let the flicker of doubt that crossed Gillian’s features shake her own confidence.
Gillian nodded again, this time with more finality. “Good.”
“Good,” Daphne echoed, then internally kicked herself for the lack of eloquence before adding, “I guess we’ll both keep meeting each other right where we are.”
“Oh, undoubtedly.” Gillian sighed and turned to go, stopping only briefly in the doorway to say, “And for what it’s worth, next time we meet, I’d like to remain upright.”
She snorted softly. “I make no promises.”
Gillian shook her head. “And we’re back on-brand.”
Gillian closed the waiting room door behind her, and then for good measure she walked straight to her own office and closed that door, too. The more barriers between her and the madness she’d just left, the better.
Daphne Milner.
Of all the chaotic coincidences in the world. She didn’t know what was worse, the woman or her plan. Was there even any way to separate the two? Probably not, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try.
Gillian didn’t want any reason to fixate on the woman with her soft curves and edge of absurdity.
After that absolute cluster of a reintroduction, she’d wanted almost desperately to get back on level footing, and she almost had.
She’d made good, levelheaded points about her work and the boundary-setting it required, and Daphne had even seemed receptive at first, but of course she had to get her little digs in.
God, even as a teenager she could needle almost effortlessly, even when she didn’t have any reason to.
Daphne just carried this air of mocking right below the surface, like nothing rose to the level of seriousness Gillian thought it should.
Except today it had. For a few moments something seemed to matter to Daphne, and it had damn near captivated Gillian to see the change come over her.
She sat down at her desk and tried to cling to the memory of Daphne describing the fervor with which she loved her job.
She’d been mesmerizing, steady, self-assured, awash with conviction.
There’d been something real to grasp for, and an authentic connection that could’ve served as the catalyst for meaningful change, and Gillian had genuinely tried to tether herself to it.
Professionalism served as an anchor, a steady place to stand, but then Daphne had challenged hers.
The hair on the back of her neck tingled as she remembered the hint of challenge rising in her. At the time, she’d been offended, but now she felt almost grateful for the shot across her bow, as it was probably the only reason she managed not to laugh or lash out when the bomb had dropped.