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4. The Plan

As I wait for Lindsey to answer her phone, my insecurities start plaguing my thoughts. She had seemed genuine about wanting to meet up, but now that I'm actually making the attempt I'm wondering if her offer was only made out of politeness.

"Hey, Lindsey. It's Emma," I tell her after she's greeted me with a simple 'hello'.

"Emma!" she nearly squeals, and immediately my uncertainty vanishes. "I'm so glad you called. What's up?"

I laugh before responding. "Actually, I was wondering if you'd be up for getting togeth—" 

She squeals out a 'yes' before I can even finish my sentence. "Yes," she says again, excitement bubbling from her lips. "When?"

"Uh... now?"

"Coffee Lounge?" she says, and I grunt a 'huh?' before she laughs and explains. "It's the campus coffee shop. We could meet there in ten minutes?"

"Perfect."

-----

"It's crazy," Lindsey begins as she sips her iced caramel macchiato. "I've wanted to get to know you for ages, but we just never ran in the same crowd in high school."

She pauses to take a sip before continuing. "That's not much of an excuse. I guess I was too lazy to put the effort in, and you always seemed to enjoy your solitude. I don't think I ever saw you seek anyone out, and you seemed surprisingly okay with that. I didn't want to intrude if I wasn't wanted."

I let out a small, insecure snicker before responding. "It was probably best that you left me alone back then," I tell her, taking a hesitant sip of my scorching cappuccino.

She looks at me intently, silently telling me to continue.

"I was going through some stuff back then," I explain, waving it off like it's not a big deal. "You know how dramatic high schoolers are. Something bad happens and then suddenly it's like 'my life is over!', 'I hate the world!' kind of deal."

"Did it have to do with your dad?"

I look up shocked by her question. She seems to regret her forwardness, but I immediately answer, hoping to ease her mind.

"I can't believe you remember that," I respond. I glance down at my coffee before dipping my finger into the foam and sucking it off my finger.

"I just remember hearing about your dad passing away, but the news never gave any details," she explains.

"We asked them to keep it quiet."

I know that suffering alone is unhealthy; I've known it for years. I never cared to enlighten anyone about my past because I couldn't bear to pull the images from my memory cellar. But, for some reason, Lindsey gives off a sense of complete trust. My emotions are still fragile, so I don't go into extreme detail, but I do tell her most everything. I tell her the surface account of my father's death; and how I dealt with all of it. I try to hold back my own grief as I give her my history, but my body won't cooperate. I'm not even bothered by the fact that I'm choking back tears, and Lindsey doesn't appear to be bothered either.

I guess I could have had this type of friendship sooner, but I'd never given anyone a chance. Lindsey's genuine desire to get to know me is impossible to turn down, and her honest response to my darkest heartbreak makes me want to spill my damaged life all over her.

I'm grateful when I'm able to retell parts of my past without completely falling apart. I clear my throat to rid it of any remaining emotions and smile over at Lindsey. Her expression is warm, and I feel the tension ease from my muscles.