Our Contract of Distrust

-- 29 --

I wonder since when hating things became so natural. 

I'm sure it was always easy. 

Easy to hold grudges. To become bitter over nothing. 

Kids are good at being jealous, selfish and cruel. 

But many are also good at getting over those sentiments. Good at forgetting why they were mad. Good at completely disregarding the stupid threats they make to never speak to someone again. 

As adults people are generally also selfish, jealous and cruel. We just get better at hiding it.
And we get worse at forgetting. 

Or we hold onto bitter feelings even after we forget why they were formed. We filter others' actions through our lenses of prejudice. We look for excuses to justify our feelings. 

But even when you know that's what you're doing, it's hard to find the off switch. And even if you locate it, pushing it is another matter entirely. 

I think that's the way things were regarding Feodor to a certain extent.
Even after I realised I was probably wrong, I didn't want to turn back. 

My mum used to like this quote by C. S. Lewis about progress. 

It was something along the lines of: if you're on the wrong road, the one who turns back soonest makes the most progress. 

In the infinite wisdom of my adolescence, it was just another thing to roll my eyes at. But now I get it. 

It's easier to go on ignoring the fact that you took a wrong turn. To refuse to ask for directions. To push down on the accelerator and hope to burst through a wall back onto a better path. 

But life doesn't work that way. 

You have to ditch your ego to fix yourself. 

Sometimes you have to admit your mistakes, and hell, even try to learn from them. 

And regardless of how many inspirational quotes find themselves plastered on cafe walls, it doesn't seem to get any easier. 

____________________________

I'm scrubbing dishes in the sink when Feodor suddenly appears in the doorway.

For real this guy's stealth level is no joke.

"Um, Nadia?" he says.

"Yeah?"

"Well, um. You know, um, you know how you had your friend - Trin - over? Um, well, could um, mine also...?"

"You want to invite your friend over?"

Feodor swallows and nods.

"Sure. But you cook."

He exhales and nods again.

He's like some child asking his parents' permission for his first sleepover.

Which is more than weird. I don't feel like I'm in any position of authority, parental or otherwise.

"When?" I ask.

"Huh?"

"When will your friend come?"

"Oh. Friday?"

"Okay."

What was a nice way to shut down such conversations? 'Cool'? 'I'm looking forward to it'?

Except I'm not looking forward to it. I hate meeting new people.

I find myself sighing subconsciously.

Actually, why did I agree so easily?

I mean, it's only fair that I did.

I'd decided I would at least try to change. Ideally for the better.

But ugh, people.

Actually, what kind of person would Feodor's friend be?

What if he's also awkwardly quiet? Three poor conversationalists at one table sounds less then pleasant.

But well, it's not my responsibility to stop things from being awkward, right? Who even cares if it's awkward? I mean, I'm used to awkward anyway, right?

I sigh again.

I hate awkward. I hate people.

I hate that hating comes so readily.