Despite growing up together, Catherine Simmons and Mattis Reed were never close.
Cat was inseparable from Mattis' younger sister, Chloé, while he was busy running around on the football field.
But when Cat's new dream drags her across the country du...
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This is the first time I have been outside since leaving the hospital.
It's also coincidentally the first day it's stopped raining since Chloé's visit.
I bristle against the wind, pulling the jacket closer to me as I walk across campus, noticing how the grass is still damp from the heavy downpour. After a while of aimless wandering, I find a bench in a secluded corner, gingerly sitting down, hugging my legs to my chest.
Mattis is with the team. That and classes are the only times he leaves me alone now. It's been five days since Chloé went home, and Mattis has been glued to my side ever since. I think an earlier version of me would have hated that - being so codependent on a guy - but he is the only person who makes me feel somewhat normal. Somewhat like an actual human being.
And I promised him I would stop running.
I never put much thought into my coping mechanisms. I've always relied on my people - Chloé and my siblings - to keep me safe, leading me to believe I'm open about my pain. But looking back, I think Mattis has a point. Even as a kid, when life was darkest, I'd hide under the covers, waiting for the worst agony to subside before I crept into Sarah's room or hurried down the street to the Reeds'.
Chloé is different. She experiences her feelings out loud, never ashamed. Mattis has some of that, too; I wonder if it's because they have never been told to stuff their emotions back in.
Mattis has been breaking down my walls for the better part of a year now, and he's made it to the final one. The very foundation of my defenses stacked together before I even knew what trust issues were.
It'll be hard to change that habit, to allow him this piece of me, but for him, I'll try. For him, I'll do just about anything.
He's been so good at listening to me talk about the miscarriage without judgment. I've told him things I never thought I'd dare say out loud, and all he does is nod his head like it makes all the sense in the world. And he's shown me his grief as well. Crying together is more cathartic than I would have guessed. In those moments, I think we might be able to heal each other.
I never expected to have this forceful a reaction, but it's like the rug has been pulled out underneath me, and everything turned upside down.
I'm only just getting back on my feet.
It's Sunday, and I finally feel ready to begin attending classes again tomorrow.
Ava, who is a literal saint, took it upon herself to inform the faculty that I'd gotten a bad case of mono and would be out for a few weeks. My professors have allowed me extensions on assignments, but if I hope to salvage my GPA, I must get back into the auditoriums.
Today is a test run to see how I do with movement, and fresh air, and the possibility of people. I feel frail in a way I never have before, and I'm treating myself with kid gloves. One step at a time.
