Even though I’ve talked about this in therapy and worked through it in my head, there’s something oddly cathartic about sharing my past with him. About giving him a glimpse into the person buried beneath the façade. I don’t want to pretend to be anyone other than who I truly am. If he’s unable to accept that—accept me—then he’s not worth my time.
“I really wish I could hold you right now.”
Everything inside me melts. “Me, too.”
“Close your eyes and imagine that I am.”
I do as he instructs, picturing him there with me, and somehow, it makes everything better.
“Is this an issue you still struggle with?” he asks hesitantly.
“No. Once I left for college, I was able to take a step back and realize how unhealthy my relationship was with not only food, but also my mother. I started seeing a counselor on campus and that really helped me to understand what I was doing. It took a long time to recognize that these were her issues and not mine. I’ve also come to accept that I will never be a twig, but I can still be happy and healthy.” It’s Sasha that I have to thank for that. She was instrumental in helping me to understand that I wasn’t seeing myself clearly when I looked in the mirror.
“I really hate you went through all that.”
“Me, too.” I’ve spent a lot of time grieving my childhood, wishing things could have been different. But the past can’t be changed. I can only make my peace with it and move forward.
“I give you a lot of credit for being able to do that. You’re really strong.”
“It wasn’t easy, but I’m much happier now.” Another burst of warmth rushes through my veins as I clear my throat and steer the conversation in a different direction. I’ve talked enough about myself. “What about you? Are you close to your family?”
“Like your parents, mine are also divorced. It happened around the same age, so I guess we have that in common.” There’s a trace of humor in his tone. “Dad’s currently on wife number four.”
My eyes widen. “Oh. Wow. That’s…”
“A lot?” he asks with an easy chuckle. “Yeah, it is. He’s a surgeon and spends more time at the hospital than he does at home. Wife number two used to joke that he was married to medicine rather than her. Sadly, it’s the truth. When she finally came to grips that it wouldn’t be changing, she left. It was pretty much the same with wife number three. Wife number four doesn’t seem to mind that he’s not really present.”
I search my brain for any other information I’ve gleaned about his family from our previous texting. “You have an older brother, right?”
“Yup. He’s in his second year of med school.”
“But you weren’t interested in doing that?”
There’s a long stretch of silent moments that leaves me wondering if I’ve unintentionally stepped on a landmine. What I’ve come to realize from my own past is that we all have them. Whether we realize it or not.
Just as I open my mouth to tell him that we don’t have to talk about it, he says, “No. Engineering is more up my alley. My father probably works eighty hours a week. He’s always on call for his patients. Both he and my brother feel like it’s a higher calling and are passionate about the profession. You need that kind of dedication and willingness to sacrifice other parts of your life. I’m unwilling to do that.”
It sounds like he’s given this a lot of thought. It’s not something I would have necessarily considered when thinking about a medical career, but it makes sense.
“I can understand that. Is your family disappointed by your decision?”
“Maybe a little, but they also realize that my interests lie elsewhere.”
“And that’s with mechanical engineering?”
There’s a slight hesitation before he says, “Yeah, engineering.”
“What are you going to do with that?”
“I don’t know. Probably something in the auto industry.”
“It’s hard to believe that we’ll graduate next semester. Were you able to do an internship? Do you have any prospects lined up yet?”
“There are a few options, but nothing concrete. I’ll know more in the spring.” He quickly turns the question back on me. “What are your plans after graduation?”
“I was lucky enough to land an internship last summer at a department store, and they’ve offered me a full-time position working with their buyer. It’s not exactly what I want to do, but it’s definitely a jumping off point.”
“That’s really cool. Congrats.”
“Thanks.”
A smile blooms across my face as we spend the next couple of hours talking about what feels like everything under the sun. Interspersed throughout it all is a ton of laughter and joking. I don’t think I’ve ever connected on this kind of level with anyone. It feels like I could tell Chris anything and he would understand. It’s a shock when I glance at the clock on the nightstand and realize that it’s after one in the morning. Where did the time go?