first.
“Why don’t you text me back?”
That wasn’t what I expected at all. I looked away from him, focusing the outline of a patch of mud in the wood chippings below me. That question wasn’t a new one. He had asked me that thousands of times before, but it was the way he asked it, with so much hope. He genuinely thought that I might tell him that time.
“Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t get it. Why don’t you want to communicate with me? Please, is something really wrong? Because if there is, I promise you it’ll be okay. I’ll help you. You just have to tell me,” he pleaded.
I gulped and pressed my lips together to stop myself blurting it out. I wanted to tell him. I wanted to talk to him normally, but I didn’t want to hurt him or my family. I didn’t want anyone to know how used and dirty I was, especially not him.
“Oakley, you can tell me. You know that, don’t you?”
I nodded once. Of course, I knew that, but it was what would happen after that scared me the most. Telling him the truth was not something I could take back. It would be out there forever. Smiling, I looked into his eyes, trying to convince him everything was all right.
“Are you scared to talk again?”
Scared didn’t even begin cover it. I was absolutely terrified. Being mute was easier; no one could make me talk, so no one could make me tell the truth.
Cole looked so sad it made me feel sick. Being responsible for him being unhappy felt horrible. He stroked my cheek with his fingertip.
“Whenever you’re ready you can talk to me, or you can write it down. We all just want to know so we can help. There are treatments specialists can try.”
Frowning in hurt, I looked away from him. Why did I need to speak or write things down? We had managed to have a pretty great friendship for almost sixteen years now, and almost eleven of them I hadn’t said a word for. Was that why he didn’t want anything more than friendship? Did he want me to speak before he would consider anything more?
“Hey, it doesn’t bother me, you know that. I just want you to know I’m here if you need me. I’ll drop it now, okay. I don’t want to upset you.”
I so desperately wanted to ask him if he meant that, and how much he meant it. Cole sighed heavily and stood up.
“Want me to take you home now?”
I shook my head and just prayed he really had dropped it. I knew it would come up again, but for now, I just wanted to enjoy the night.
“Okay, I’m pushing you over the top!” he chuckled and walked behind me.
“You remember that time you insisted on pushing me on the swing?” he asked. “You pushed so hard it swung back fast and knocked you over!”
I turned my head and glared at him, which only made him laugh.
“You yelled at me for making it hit you and cried for ages, you big baby.”
Big Baby! I was only four then, and Cole just six. I still remembered it as if it happened yesterday. I told him it was unfair that he would push me all the time, just because I was a girl, so I pushed him. I hurt my arm when the swing knocked me over, so Cole gave me his chocolate buttons to make me feel better.
He pushed me on the swing until I held my hand up, getting an idea. He immediately stopped, and I jumped off, gesturing for him to sit.
“Oh no, I’m not having you fall again and go all whiny on me!” I frowned sternly and pointed to the swing. Cole chuckled.
“Remember to move when it comes back at you,” he said teasingly.
I rolled my eyes but grinned too. We fell silent while I pushed him on the swing. After what felt like hours – just the two of us in an easy silence – Cole stopped the motion of the swing, digging his heel into the ground.
“I’m getting hungry. Let’s get my car and go to McDonalds for an ice cream.” I stopped pushing straight away, and he got off the swing. With a little smirk, he added, “And if you’re a good girl, I’ll get you a milkshake too.” Idiot.
Once we had finished eating,
“Why don’t you text me back?”
That wasn’t what I expected at all. I looked away from him, focusing the outline of a patch of mud in the wood chippings below me. That question wasn’t a new one. He had asked me that thousands of times before, but it was the way he asked it, with so much hope. He genuinely thought that I might tell him that time.
“Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t get it. Why don’t you want to communicate with me? Please, is something really wrong? Because if there is, I promise you it’ll be okay. I’ll help you. You just have to tell me,” he pleaded.
I gulped and pressed my lips together to stop myself blurting it out. I wanted to tell him. I wanted to talk to him normally, but I didn’t want to hurt him or my family. I didn’t want anyone to know how used and dirty I was, especially not him.
“Oakley, you can tell me. You know that, don’t you?”
I nodded once. Of course, I knew that, but it was what would happen after that scared me the most. Telling him the truth was not something I could take back. It would be out there forever. Smiling, I looked into his eyes, trying to convince him everything was all right.
“Are you scared to talk again?”
Scared didn’t even begin cover it. I was absolutely terrified. Being mute was easier; no one could make me talk, so no one could make me tell the truth.
Cole looked so sad it made me feel sick. Being responsible for him being unhappy felt horrible. He stroked my cheek with his fingertip.
“Whenever you’re ready you can talk to me, or you can write it down. We all just want to know so we can help. There are treatments specialists can try.”
Frowning in hurt, I looked away from him. Why did I need to speak or write things down? We had managed to have a pretty great friendship for almost sixteen years now, and almost eleven of them I hadn’t said a word for. Was that why he didn’t want anything more than friendship? Did he want me to speak before he would consider anything more?
“Hey, it doesn’t bother me, you know that. I just want you to know I’m here if you need me. I’ll drop it now, okay. I don’t want to upset you.”
I so desperately wanted to ask him if he meant that, and how much he meant it. Cole sighed heavily and stood up.
“Want me to take you home now?”
I shook my head and just prayed he really had dropped it. I knew it would come up again, but for now, I just wanted to enjoy the night.
“Okay, I’m pushing you over the top!” he chuckled and walked behind me.
“You remember that time you insisted on pushing me on the swing?” he asked. “You pushed so hard it swung back fast and knocked you over!”
I turned my head and glared at him, which only made him laugh.
“You yelled at me for making it hit you and cried for ages, you big baby.”
Big Baby! I was only four then, and Cole just six. I still remembered it as if it happened yesterday. I told him it was unfair that he would push me all the time, just because I was a girl, so I pushed him. I hurt my arm when the swing knocked me over, so Cole gave me his chocolate buttons to make me feel better.
He pushed me on the swing until I held my hand up, getting an idea. He immediately stopped, and I jumped off, gesturing for him to sit.
“Oh no, I’m not having you fall again and go all whiny on me!” I frowned sternly and pointed to the swing. Cole chuckled.
“Remember to move when it comes back at you,” he said teasingly.
I rolled my eyes but grinned too. We fell silent while I pushed him on the swing. After what felt like hours – just the two of us in an easy silence – Cole stopped the motion of the swing, digging his heel into the ground.
“I’m getting hungry. Let’s get my car and go to McDonalds for an ice cream.” I stopped pushing straight away, and he got off the swing. With a little smirk, he added, “And if you’re a good girl, I’ll get you a milkshake too.” Idiot.
Once we had finished eating,
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