Just you and I

XXXIV

(POV Dani)

How do I start this conversation in a good way, not a bombarding kind of way. I've gotten her to this point, I just need to make sure I don't push her away. Again.

"Did your parents get a divorce?"
"Nope."
"But I thought your mom cheate-"
"My turn."
"Right."

She looks up, thinking about the question she wants to ask. This is gonna be interesting, she's barely asked anything about me, except for the famous 'what's you're favorite color' type of questions.

"When did you know you were gay?"
"Oh god, um. Probably when a guy took me for ice cream when I was like 14 and kissed me, it grossed me out, never wanted to do it again, but I didn't really accept it or actually come out until I was 16 probably."
"Mhm, interesting."

"How did you and Sophia end up moving?"
"They picked a fight when we got home, daily occurrence. I packed our bags and left."
"I'm sorry." She shrugs her shoulders.

"Hmmmm, what about your first girlfriend."
"I don't know if I'd call her my girlfriend but I was talking to a girl in high school, we hung out and kissed a few times but it never went anywhere. Other than that, it's just been some talking stages I guess. Probably a lot more boring than you expected." I chuckle. "A lot more boring, so teacher of you."

"Hey!" I lightly tap her arm and smile. Would I dare ask something more personal? We'll see where it goes. She can't run far if she does run.

"When did it start?" I look up at her, she looks at me with a surprised look, "when did what start?"
"The abuse, the yelling, the um- drinking."

She swallows and looks down. I keep rubbing her hand with my thumb. Come on, Saylor. I know you want to talk about it.

"I don't know, one moment we were fine, the next we weren't." She sighs and takes a deep breath.

"I remember my dad coming home one night yelling at my mom, which wasn't anything weird. But I overheard him saying some guy at the bar told him my mom cheated on him and Soof isn't his daughter. It got worse from there. I guess. They started yelling at me, at each other, blaming me, blaming anyone really, I don't really remember it all."

"Does Sophia remember?"
"Doubt it."
"Have you heard from them?"
"Mhm. They called a few weeks ago. Well they call every now and then, but I usually don't pick up."
"What'd they say?"
"They wanted Sophia."
"What'd you say?"
"That I'd take them to court if they tried."
"I'm sorry."
"Yeah, me too."
"What made you answer?"
"Thought it'd be different. Maybe they missed me, or finally got sober. Or hell I don't know, remembered they have 2 kids they used to love. Used to know. Used to care about.

The tears start rolling down her cheeks. She doesn't try to wipe them away this time.

"I don't even care as much about myself as I do about Sophia. What do I tell her when she's older?  When she starts wondering? That her parents don't love her? And oh surprise Soof, we're actually half-sisters!"

She shrugs her shoulders and puts her hand in front of her eyes, while leaving the other one in mine. She sniffs and wipes her tears. "Gross."
"Saylor! It's not gross, it's human you weirdo."
She sticks out her tongue. Really? Goofball.

"Anyways. My turn. You've had like 25 questions by now." I chuckle, "sure thing ask away."
She puts her thinking face on, I'm not that interesting really.

"OH! When did you decide you wanted to be a teacher?" Jeez, Saylor. "What's with these deep meaningful questions?" She shrugs her shoulders, "I could ask the same about you."
"Mhm, touché."

"Also, why an English teacher? Yikes."
"Hey!"
"Sorry."
"Thank you."
"Not really but it's the thought that counts."
"Ha.Ha."
"So?"

"I guess I've always liked helping people, teaching them something, or even helping them find the best version of themselves. That's where the English part comes in, some people would rather write a poem or a story than talk about how they feel. I mean I know someone who always sings about her feelings; and writes the most gut wrenching poems and stories, but never talks about how she feels. She usually gets really mad and upset when I ask her about it. Oof, feisty one."

She gives me a surprised but amusing look with a grin on her face, "she sounds awesome." I nod, "she is." She smiles, "sometimes." She opens her mouth and slightly taps my arm.

I wipe the remains of her tears on her cheek away, "you're not broken, Saylor. And when you do tell Sophia, I'm certain she'll be grateful you got her out of there." She gives me a small smile but shrugs her shoulders, "maybe."

"Sophia is a loving, kind, joyful kid. You stepped up and raised her, no one asked you to.
And you did awesome, you did everything and then some. But it's time you take care of yourself now, I've got Sophia. I've got both of you."

She shakes her head, "no, i'll be just fine. I don't need any help." I sigh and lift her chin.

"I don't want to ask you this, Saylor, believe me when I say I don't. When did you last wake up feeling alive, feeling like you belong to be here? Feeling like you have any other purpose besides being there for Sophia?"

I knew I would reck myself with this question, probably as much as it'd wreck her. And somehow, I think the answer will wreck me more than I anticipated. Most people don't even notice the symptoms, they think it's normal to feel like that. But it's not. In Saylor's case, she knows, deep down, but she finds comfort in feeling like this.

"Why'd you think that?"
"Your art speaks for itself."
"If I were to feel like that, then what?"
"Then I'm right here when you need me."
"What about when school starts."
"We will figure it out."
"I can't rely on you, Dani."
"I'm offering to help, that's my choice."
"Why?"
"Because I care about you, Saylor. I have since I met you."
"Fine."
"You need to tell me. You need to say it out loud."

I hold her cheeks with both my hands and look into her eyes. "Please." She looks down and sighs.
"Maybe, I haven't been feeling like I have a purpose. Lately. Maybe I wouldn't have been here anymore if it wasn't for Sophia."

She looks back up, trying to read my mind after saying those words. Trying to see if I'd run after hearing that, or scream, or cry, or yell. But all I want to do is hug her, and never let her go. No one should ever feel like that, especially not because of someone else.

I take my hands off her cheeks and open my arms, she immediately falls into them. I put my hand on the back of her head while rubbing her back with my other hand. She strongly holds on to me and rests her head on my shoulder.