Why would I feel any less safe here?”
His face twisted briefly, and I knew he was bothered by my words. “I don’t know. You’ll just be all by yourself.”
I took a breath to force back rising impatience. I knew he was trying to help, so it wasn’t right for me to want to scratch his face off for his persistent intrusion. “That’s what I want. It really is. I feel safer when I’m alone. Why won’t you believe me?”
“I do believe you. It just seems like it would be better to have other people around.”
“I’m not going to move in with my dad or something. What the hell are you thinking?” I wasn’t doing as good a job at hiding my annoyance now.
“For Christ’s sake, I’m not expecting you to—” He cut off his initial answer and tempered his tone as he started again. “I didn’t think you’d move in with your dad. I just think it would be better to have people around.”
“You already said that.”
He swallowed off his reply and went back out to his SUV to get another box. Or get away from me. Or something.
I was plugging in the blender I’d taken from the box when he came back in lugging a small potted tree. “Where should this go?”
I gestured toward a sunny space on the wall between the table and the living area, relieved the earlier conversation was over. “There would be good. Thanks.”
He put the tree down and then shifted it slightly so it was more centered. When he glanced back to check for my approval of his positioning, I nodded with a smile.
He smiled back as he straightened up. “So when do you think you’ll go back to work?”
My spine stiffened again as I realized the earlier conversation wasn’t actually over. It had just taken a slightly different direction. “I don’t know.”
“It might help. To feel like things are more normal.”
“Would you just shut up?” I snapped, giving up on my attempt to be patient and reasonable. “I’ll go back to work when I’m ready.”
He tightened his lips and turned away. I could see a tension in his shoulders, as he headed back to get another box from the car. I knew he was annoyed with me too and wanted to argue.
But you evidently don’t get mad at a delicate, damaged flower, no matter how much she deserves it.
When he came back in, he’d restrained his instinctive response, but I knew he was still thinking about it. So I replied to what I knew was going on in his mind. “I’m not going to feel normal, Gideon. It’s all I can do to get through the day and hold myself together. I’m not ready to go back to work yet.”
“Okay.”
“People deal with things differently. You can’t expect me to need exactly the same things that someone else might need to recover. You need to give me enough space to deal with this in the way that works for me.” I’d found in the last few weeks that this was an excellent response, since it left whoever was nagging me no room for argument.
“I said okay.”
He was saying it, but I could tell from his expression that he didn’t believe it. I took my favorite pasta pot out of the box and banged it onto the counter next to the stove. It made more noise than I was expecting. “I’m serious, Gideon. I don’t want you to be arguing with me in your mind. This is what’s going to work for me. I’m not going to feel safe. I’m not going to feel normal. This is the best I can do.”
I hadn’t meant to say that. I knew better than to say that. It was exactly the kind of thing that made people worry, that made them think they needed to help me. I could see the reaction on Gideon’s face. His expression had been tense with suppressed frustration, but it seemed to crack at what I’d said, softening into concern, emotion. “Diana,” he began, his voice slightly hoarse.
“No!” I raised a hand to emphasize the word. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really mean that. I just feel that way sometimes. I’m sorry I’m being so rude. I really appreciate all your help. I just need
His face twisted briefly, and I knew he was bothered by my words. “I don’t know. You’ll just be all by yourself.”
I took a breath to force back rising impatience. I knew he was trying to help, so it wasn’t right for me to want to scratch his face off for his persistent intrusion. “That’s what I want. It really is. I feel safer when I’m alone. Why won’t you believe me?”
“I do believe you. It just seems like it would be better to have other people around.”
“I’m not going to move in with my dad or something. What the hell are you thinking?” I wasn’t doing as good a job at hiding my annoyance now.
“For Christ’s sake, I’m not expecting you to—” He cut off his initial answer and tempered his tone as he started again. “I didn’t think you’d move in with your dad. I just think it would be better to have people around.”
“You already said that.”
He swallowed off his reply and went back out to his SUV to get another box. Or get away from me. Or something.
I was plugging in the blender I’d taken from the box when he came back in lugging a small potted tree. “Where should this go?”
I gestured toward a sunny space on the wall between the table and the living area, relieved the earlier conversation was over. “There would be good. Thanks.”
He put the tree down and then shifted it slightly so it was more centered. When he glanced back to check for my approval of his positioning, I nodded with a smile.
He smiled back as he straightened up. “So when do you think you’ll go back to work?”
My spine stiffened again as I realized the earlier conversation wasn’t actually over. It had just taken a slightly different direction. “I don’t know.”
“It might help. To feel like things are more normal.”
“Would you just shut up?” I snapped, giving up on my attempt to be patient and reasonable. “I’ll go back to work when I’m ready.”
He tightened his lips and turned away. I could see a tension in his shoulders, as he headed back to get another box from the car. I knew he was annoyed with me too and wanted to argue.
But you evidently don’t get mad at a delicate, damaged flower, no matter how much she deserves it.
When he came back in, he’d restrained his instinctive response, but I knew he was still thinking about it. So I replied to what I knew was going on in his mind. “I’m not going to feel normal, Gideon. It’s all I can do to get through the day and hold myself together. I’m not ready to go back to work yet.”
“Okay.”
“People deal with things differently. You can’t expect me to need exactly the same things that someone else might need to recover. You need to give me enough space to deal with this in the way that works for me.” I’d found in the last few weeks that this was an excellent response, since it left whoever was nagging me no room for argument.
“I said okay.”
He was saying it, but I could tell from his expression that he didn’t believe it. I took my favorite pasta pot out of the box and banged it onto the counter next to the stove. It made more noise than I was expecting. “I’m serious, Gideon. I don’t want you to be arguing with me in your mind. This is what’s going to work for me. I’m not going to feel safe. I’m not going to feel normal. This is the best I can do.”
I hadn’t meant to say that. I knew better than to say that. It was exactly the kind of thing that made people worry, that made them think they needed to help me. I could see the reaction on Gideon’s face. His expression had been tense with suppressed frustration, but it seemed to crack at what I’d said, softening into concern, emotion. “Diana,” he began, his voice slightly hoarse.
“No!” I raised a hand to emphasize the word. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really mean that. I just feel that way sometimes. I’m sorry I’m being so rude. I really appreciate all your help. I just need
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