how to catch feelings

69

"So the murder thing," Kat started saying as we walked back toward the train station.

"I can't do anything else about it. The university doesn't want—"

"Do you answer to the university?"

"They don't—"

"You don't answer to them." She stopped mid-stride and glared at me. "You answer to your editors. To your reporters. The student body. The community. That's journalism. Making people mad. Stepping on toes. Ruffling feathers. All that shit. Journalism isn't about keeping people happy. It isn't telling them what they necessarily want to hear. You tell them what they need to hear. You find the truth and you write it. If anyone tries to tell you otherwise, you call the MPA and you get a lawyer on the university's ass. You do not answer to the fucking university."

It probably goes without saying that I was speechless.

"If the university is getting mad, it means you're doing your job. And well. So keep doing it. You can do it. Do you really think I would've wasted my fucking time on you if I thought you couldn't handle all this shit? No. I spent two years watching you build your network, build connections. I watched you take on a shitload of stories that would've fallen through had anyone else taken them. I watched you step up and be a leader. You got hate comments, bitch. You know what that means? That means you pissed people off. You did your job. Keep doing it."

My throat tightened against a sob.

I guess you've probably figured out that Kat's all about tough love.

"I don't know what I'm doing," I said. Frick, I hated the catch in my voice.

"You think I did? I still don't know what the fuck I'm doing. Only difference is now I don't know what the fuck I'm doing in Chicago."

I couldn't help but smile.

"I mean it. You're doing fine. Better than fine. Bitch, you made it through the fall semester. You're halfway there. Anything you did last semester, you can do it again. That's all it is. Routine. One week at a time. You know what you're doing."

My doubts were nowhere near stifled, but the pep talk helped a little.

I still wanted to go hide somewhere and cry my eyes out.

"I'm always a text away."

"I know." That wasn't the same though. Not the same as talking in person. Not as real.

Yeah, I was kidding myself thinking I'd ever meant something to Cole. Thinking we'd ever had a connection.

I was kidding myself.

We continued walking.

When we got to the station, Kat said, "About your friend on the baseball team – trust your gut. Not your head. You always overthink everything."

"I know."

"Just trust your gut. Same goes for the murder. You got this."

"I guess."

She rolled her eyes.

"You can just push me in front of a train," I said. "Save me some trouble."

"Only if you push me too."

"I don't know how that would work."

"Damn."

The train came barreling in. I took a deep breath.

"Well. Good hang, buddy." Kat forced a smile.

"Yeah. Right. Good hang."

"If you ever find yourself in Chicago... leave me alone."

I laughed. "Okay. Will do." I offered her a wave and then stepped forward to join the other commuters. "Guh-bye!" I said in my parrot voice.

"Guh-bye!" she said back.

God, if we could've gone back to a year earlier when things were a smidge easier.

Just a smidge.

***

My uncle took me out to dinner again, this time just for ice cream. Sometimes you just gotta.

We went back to his house and sat in the basement, where he had constructed his own surround-sound system, to watch a movie on Disney+.

One of the dogs decided that my lap was a good place to sleep. Her weight was a comforting presence as Elsa's chilling solo washed around us.

At some point during Anna's search for her sister, I was struck with the urge to check Messenger.

Maybe not my best decision, but whatever.

Texts from Cole had piled up, though not too many. He'd taken the hint somewhere around the end of November, offering a 'hey' or a 'how's it going' maybe only once a week.

Was that a good thing?

Was that what I wanted?

My stomach churned, and I wasn't sure if it was the ice cream or a physical response to my anxiety.

Probably both.

I debated calling it a night and excusing myself, but the movie was almost over anyway. Might as well try and hold out for the end. The happily ever after.

Eventually the credits started to roll, and my uncle clicked back to the main menu. "Another one?" he asked.

"I think I'm going to go to bed. Long day."

"Ah, sure. Any thoughts about what you want to do tomorrow?"

"Not really."

"Alright. Sleep on it. We can always go ice skating at Millennium Park or check out the Magnificent Mile."

"Okay. Cool. Good night."

"Mmhm. Good night."

I went upstairs and got ready for bed.

It briefly crossed my mind to text Cole, but I wasn't feeling up to it quite yet.

I settled for unmuting him.

***

Christmas rolled around, more of a crispy dead brown than white.

As my friends were sending their exclamatory texts and snaps, I wondered if I should text Cole a merry Christmas. It could be a low-stakes attempt to reestablish communication.

Did I want to reestablish communication?

I still hadn't decided.

I was overthinking it, of course I was. Weighing the pros and the cons. The reasons to let go. The reasons to hang on.

At that point, what did I have to lose?

So I opened Messenger.

"Merry Christmas," I said, tacking on a Christmas tree emoji.

My brother walked into my room. "You coming or not?"

Despite being a college freshman, Eric was still all about the presents.

"Yeah, yeah, in a minute."

"We're gonna start without you."

"You aren't allowed to."

"Says who?"

"Me."

He gave me a dirty look. "You have five minutes."

With a sigh, I rolled out of bed. I left my phone in my room and joined Eric and my parents in the living room.

*** ***