The Dream

Hypocrite

-Carla Siddiki-

I'm a hypocrite. 

"Carla?" 

I look up from my work desk to find Zain at my door. I had been so drowned in all of my work and thoughts in my home office that I hadn't noticed the time go by. The whole room was dark but I had ignored it until now. It was probably around 10 pm. 

I studied Zain's face to see that for the most part, it was the same as it always was, expression strong and untouchable. But his eyes told me something else.  He was tired, sure, but there was more than that. "Is everything alright?" I asked, my work was disregarded now and I made sure he knew he had all of my attention. 

"Can I come in?" I nodded positively at his question which seemed to have him physically relax a little before coming into the room, closing the door to my office and taking a seat in front of me but that didn't seem right. So, I pulled my chair around so we were on the same side and I could be a little closer to him. I may technically be his boss but we're closer than that now and I was going to treat him with the care that I felt for him. 

He tried smiling at me but I could tell it was forced. When I didn't smile back, he stopped and it looked as if he was close to breaking. "I'm not okay," he says, a sigh leaving his lips. I wonder for a moment if it could be the project we've been working on recently, there's been a lot of extra work, tighter deadlines, messed up schedules. It was hard for both of us because we ended up having to take on most of the responsibility. 

"Is it the project?" I asked, "Because we're almost done now! And the rest I should be able to handle on my own-" I tell him positively but he shakes his head. 

"It's more than that. I try so hard to be well but," He starts, shaking his head, making my smile falter a little bit, finding myself hoping I'd be able to help him. 

"That's okay," I say which makes him look at me as if he was expecting a different reaction. 

"Is it?" 

I nod back at him, "Sometimes forcing one's self to be happy and well when they're not will cause internal suffering. You're allowed not to be okay. You're allowed to express unhappiness and be unwell. And you should be able to get help when you feel that way rather than bottling it up and saying, 'yes I am alright,'" I paused but only to see he was really listening and taking in what I had to say, "so trying is enough. If you're well, I'm truly glad, if not, I'm here to help in whatever way I can."

He lets out another sigh and as he starts to talk he takes one of my hands in his own and finds himself fiddling with my fingers which comforted me, "I wake up some days feeling as though I'm not enough for anyone," 

I frowned a little before making sure I filled my next words with as much emphasis as I could, 

"That couldn't be further from the truth. You are enough. More than enough, even." 

He shakes his head again, disbelief written all over his face, "It just doesn't feel that way." It discomforted me that he thought of himself like that because the way I thought of him was the exact opposite and not once did I think of him as unworthy of my praise. 

"Look at me," I ordered and he lifted his head again to meet my eyes, "I wouldn't just tell you something for the sake of making you feel better. I'm comfortable with telling people that they have shit that they need to fix about themselves. However, I've decided to work with you, hope in you, stay with you and I enjoy doing so every second." 

I stop myself from letting out a sigh, "Things are a mess, sure, but you're not alone in this mess. You'll never be alone and so I don't want you thinking that you're not enough. You are. You have so much one could aspire for. You're strong and you prove that to me constantly. It's a pleasure to be with you, really. And I wouldn't want you any other way." 

He gives me a gentle smile, "I hope so." 

I put some energy into my expression now, taking hold of his hand despite fearing he may be uncomfortable with it, "I know so! You have a light that glows so prominently to me, never failing to amaze me with what you're able to do both in and out of work. You have talents and skills and attributes and things that make you all the more perfect. Enough? You will always be enough and more!" 

As I said that the light that I so loved to see within his eyes started to shine back at me again, proving to me that what I said was true. He continues to thank me but there's a whisper in the back of my head that starts to corrupt my thoughts. 

I'm a hypocrite. 

Although I had told him it was okay to not be okay, it was okay to try and okay to ask for help, I never did. I told him before that everything that makes us is what drives perfection in a society that doesn't think it exists but whether I believe my own flaws to have the same effect comes from a different heart. 

I could easily point to myself that there are things wrong with me, things I needed to fix. Whether I belonged, whether it would make a difference if I existed or not. Even as my conversation with Zain seems to come to a calm close, I think about how I hadn't gotten to say what I wanted to say yet lectured him once again. I think about whether my words made their mark, whether he'll take my words to heart because I meant every word of it but I only meant it to him. 

It pains me when I think about how I wasn't enough. That my workers will forget me or ask me why I fail them but I'll have no answer to give them back. 'This is how I'm made'? No, because an excuse like that fails when I have someone as perfect as Zain who stands next to me. 

"You know," Zain then says which breaks me out of my spiralling descent, "you're perfect as well. I know I don't say enough to you sometimes, that I depend on you, but you are also as perfect as you make me seem." 

My chest is hit with his words. Hit with emotions I could never express and I feel the warmth from his words. Of course, it had never bothered me when he didn't compliment me or when words were simple because I knew that not everyone shows their affection the same way. He had his own way of showing it and it got through to me. He was perfect after all. 

I smiled back at him and we stood up together. Closer than we were this morning as people and all the more glad for it. 

"You should get some rest," I tell him. 

He gives me a confident smirk, "So should you," 

And suddenly the weight on my shoulders are lifted because that was enough to show he cared.