Accepting Owen (Emilia's Perspective)

Chapter Three

~ trigger warning: talk of suicide attempt~

I bit into the sandwich Owen had suggested and had to stifle a moan. "This is disgusting!"

He laughed so hard I thought he might choke. "It is, I know, but it's so good."

"Who comes up with something like this? It's so greasy and salty, but it's somehow the best thing I've ever eaten."

"Just wait until you see how much better it makes you feel."

I held up the Gatorade he bought for me. "This is the remedy I'm used to."

"The combination of the two is what you really need. See, that's one of the reasons I don't know if I want to move. What if they don't have food like this in Chicago?"

I chuckled. "I'm sure they have garbage trucks in Chicago too!"

"Ah, there's the charming wit I was promised," he teased.

"It's my only personality trait."

"I doubt that very much." His eyes turned serious as he watched me carefully. "Please don't put yourself down."

I looked down, not able to meet his eyes. I wanted to tell him I wasn't putting myself down, that i was just joking, but I didn't want to lie. How had he just looked the confident shell I had built around myself brick by brick and seen the insecure core of my being? When I was able to make eye contact again, he looked apologetic.

"I wasn't trying to upset you. I'm just sure that you have more to you than sarcasm."

"It's a defense mechanism," I admitted, shocking even myself with my honesty. "If I make jokes about it, then I own the rights to it, and I can't be hurt by others with it."

"It's okay to be vulnerable sometimes. You have to surround yourself with people you can trust with those moments, people who support and encourage you to feel your emotions and move through them. Turning bad feelings into jokes isn't really healing."

"That's... profound. I don't really have anyone in my life like that. My brother, maybe, but he kind of does it too. He's got the toughest look in front of people, but he's really very sensetivr to his emotions."

"He's a lobster," Owen said. "Hard and scary on the outside, soft and fluffy on the inside. Guys like him have to be, but it's really helpful to bare yourself to people you love to make a stronger connection."

"You're very smart," I said, not sure what else to say.

"Is that not what you expected?"

"I guess I'm used to guys being more muscle and less brain," I teased.

"You're used to the guys that get everything beat out of them growing up, until all they have left is fighting instincts. I grew up differently. My mom is a psychologist, so I was sort of forced to work through shit instead of bottling it up."

I took the last bite of my sandwich and considered what he'd said for a few moments. "Did you expect to be in an arranged marriage?"

"No, not really. It was always a possibility, but my parents wanted to see if I found love on my own. Since I didn't, they asked if I would be open to it. My dad wanted to find a way to bring me closer to your family. He's worked with your dad for a long time now."

"Hmm. So you aren't actually...?"

"No, I'm not in, but I expect to be at some point in the near future. Do you do any work with your dad or your brother?"

"Ha! No, my dad believes a woman's place is at home. My brother will be taking over in the next ten years or so, but I never got involved. My brother made sure I learned with him, though. He thinks that when he becomes the boss, he and Octavia will take over the world together or something and he'll include me, too."

"That's really interesting. So, what's your brother's name?"

"Elijah, he's a year and a half older than me. It's just the two of us."

He tilted his head up to see that I'd finished eating. "How do you feel now?"

"A lot better, actually. It worked. I'm cured!" I cheered.

"That's great! What were you drinking, anyway?" he asked, leaning back in his truck seat to get more comfortable.

"My dad actually owns this club, called 252. A couple girl friends and I went out and I had a gin and tonic, then a margarita, followed by a few more gin and tonics, and then I was taking a shower at almost four in the morning."

He chuckled. "So you had a late night, and a crazy morning."

"This is probably my craziest morning ever."

"I was so excited to meet you, but pretty nervous at the same time. You're not quite what I expected," he said cautiously, as if he didn't want to upset me accidentally.

"I had no idea I was going to meet you today, or get married this week, so I didn't know what to expect. You have more tattoos than I would've thought for my dad's choice, but I like them."

"Do you have any?"

I lifted the right sleeve of my shirt so he could see the inside of my upper arm, with a tattooed outline of a heart. "I have this one, and on my left ankle I have a semicolon. One of those 'my story could've ended here, but it didn't' things."

"Were you suicidal?" He asked gently, his eyes searching my face.

"For a little bit, yeah. It's been almost six years. I took a bunch of pills, but I was young and dumb and didn't understand how they worked. I woke up in a hospital with a tube down my throat, and the whole thing was really annoying. There's no way I would ever try again after that much inconvenience." My heart was racing as I looked up at him.

He squeezed my hand, and raised his eyebrows. "You don't have to be ashamed-"

"But I am anyway," I whispered. "I'm okay now. I learned a lot, but there were some tough days."

"You don't have to tell me this stuff if you aren't ready to talk about it. Take your time."

"It's my past. It doesn't matter now."

"Do you want me to take you home?"

I ran my tongue along the inside of my cheek as I weighed my options. "How far away is your place from here?"