Controlee

38. More Than Words Can Say

Rule 58: Keep moving forward.

"Good morning, pup, did you sleep well?"

Hound Dog took one look at the bags starting to form under her eyes and immediately ticked insomnia on his mental checklist.

"Why don't you take a seat? Make yourself comfortable."

She settled into the soft chair and slipped off her shoes, hugging one leg to her chest while the other curled underneath her. A notepad and pen was beside her, ready for questions that needed more than a nod or shake of the head.

"I just want to start by saying, I'm really sorry for your loss."

She nodded, eyes staring down as she drew smooth patterns on the back of her hand with her fingertips.

"It can't be easy, to lose so many people at once." She started scribbling something down on her page. "I can't imagine-"

'Please stop'

He clamped his mouth shut immediately and she flipped her notebook back around to continue writing. "I know this probably isn't what you want to be heari-"

'I know, you're sorry, thank you.'

He nodded, a little awkward. But if she'd prefer a change of topic, then for now, he could set this aside. But she wasn't done writing.

'Sorry' she wrote again.

"It's ok," he told her because she was a child in pain and she hadn't done anything wrong.

She shook her head, eyes scrunched up tight and her hands moving before she remembered he couldn't understand. Not for the first time, Hound Dog wished he'd chosen sign as his language study when he'd had the choice so many years ago. She picked up the pen and wrote: 'Everyone keeps offering condolences but I never even had a conversation with half of them.'

"What do you mean?" It was normal enough for strangers to offer comfort if they knew someone was grieving, though he knew it could sometimes feel plastic and forced to hear those words from the mouths of people who'd never cared before.

She returned to drawing patterns on her hand with her opposite fingers. 'It's hard to explain' she eventually wrote.

Hound Dog hummed. This conversation was already going further than he'd expected. Given how recently they'd met, he'd expected their first session to be stilted with Otsuka sharing very little. To be perfectly honest, he'd imagined this session as time to get to know one another more than this kind of discussion. But if she was ready and willing to share now, he wasn't going to stop her. He had to wonder though, how much she'd been wanting to talk if she was jumping at the first chance he gave her. "Do you want to try?" He just hoped she wasn't pushing herself to do this.

She curled up a little smaller, an answer in and of itself. They could move to gentler topics now.

"If you ever do, then don't be afraid to-"

It was only a faint sound, choked off but trying so hard, her mouth open, aiming to speak, to say something— anything. Her shoulders shook with each erratic breath.

She wanted to speak so much, she was fighting for it right in front of him. But it was only hurting herself to try.

"Don't force yourself, Otsuka, it's ok." 

Her fist collided with the armrest (Hound Dog was forever glad he'd populated this space with soft, cushioned things wherever possible), before she tore the current page of the notebook out to get to the next one. He waited patiently for her to write, knowing it wouldn't do to try to speak over her. When she was done, she ripped this page out too, passing it over to him.