My Heart Insists I Take a Deep Breath
I’d like to think I’m above sinking into the mire of my insecurity, but the moment I read Hannah’s text, I nosedive like I’m free-falling without a parachute. It makes me want to jump up in the middle of my European Renaissance history class and go call Dr. Bethany.
The professor is at the front of the auditorium, small and dim under the lowlights, the slide show illuminating his face every so often. He talks about the history of the period using art and artifacts to explore themes, and here I am focused on the phone in my hand.
A student two seats away glances at me. From the annoyed look on her face, I’m guessing my phone is distracting her, though I’m not sure how with the tiers of laptop lights lining the room. I flick the phone off anyway, which seems to placate her. She looks away, returning to her pencil and paper.
Which I should be doing too.
I look at the blinking cursor on my laptop document.
Deep breath in.
Dr. B would ask me, “What do you know?”
Gabe said that to me once, too. Asked me what I actually knew and what I’d assumed. You never asked me, he’d pointed out. When I’d double-crossed him at fourteen because of my insecurities about Brook. My memories slide into my past self at seventeen when I’d constructed narratives around my assumptions and jealousy. There was never an excuse for my assumptions, but like Dr. B has offered: sometimes we respond with the only tools we have. My assumptions fucked our friendship, and even if both Gabe and Abby have forgiven me, it is a huge source of my shame.
I have better tools now.
Deep breath.
What do I know?
Hannah is having coffee with Sebastian. She took the time to text me about it.
Deep breath. Another.
She owes me nothing. We haven’t established anything but the desire to see one another again. Deep breath.
She might change her mind, but why text me?
I attempt to focus on the lecture, and type notes into the document, but it devolves into what’s on my mind: Hannah. Hannah. Hannah. What do I know? Worried. Worried. Worried.
I decide that what worries me the most is Sebastian. He seems volatile. That isn’t something to be insecure about. That’s something to worry about with respect to Hannah’s safety.
What can I do though? Not a whole lot.
Deep breath.
That’s not exactly true. I can be there for Hannah.
Deep Breath.
I unlock my phone. My neighbor glances at me, rolls her eyes, and sighs. I have no idea what her problem with me is. I ignore her and text Hannah back: I’m here if you need me. To talk or whatever.
Three dots pop up right away.
Hannah: He apologized for overstepping.
I’d like to tell her Sebastian is manipulating her, but I don’t know that. It would be a lie. I’m thinking about my father, and how many times I heard “I’m sorry” from him over my lifetime. How many bruises and broken bones my mom and I suffered after an apology. I remind myself that my experience isn’t hers and text:
That’s positive.
Fuck. I hate typing that. About as much as the girl in the next seat hates that I’m texting instead of taking notes. She turns in her seat as much as she can so her back is to me. Sort of. I want to lean over and tell her she can move—there are other seats—but I don’t.
Hannah: He asked to remain friends.
Fuck! I want to yell it, but I shout it in my head instead and adjust my body in my chair with as much force as if I’d actually stood and moved places. I’m tense. I don’t know how to respond to that without sounding like a jerk. My mind goes back to constructing narratives like I once did with Abby and Gabe, filling gaps with assumptions, but I take another deep breath, reminding myself that won’t serve me. Hearing Dr. B’s voice asking me again, “What do you know? What’s real?”
Hannah texts again, saving me from myself: I told him no.
Deep breath. A grin blooms on my face like spring flowers as I reread her words.
Me: Do you feel good about that?
Deep Breath. Because I sure do.
Hannah: I know it’s the right thing. For me.
Me: (smiley face)
Hannah: I’ll talk to you later?
Me: Yes.
I press the button to sleep the phone and return my focus to the lecture and my notes, feeling much better. Then I think about seeing Hannah today, because I’m not sure I can wait until tomorrow. Perhaps I can see what this whole flirting in the Ham is all about.