Grit

By: Abigail Gibb

“Cory.”

“If this is about what I think it is, it would be better for you just to leave.” Cory didn’t look up from the book, continuing to pencil in the words to the crossword puzzle on the page.

There was a tense pause and then, “Cory, please.”

Cory’s breath caught in their throat before choking out “no” — the sound of movement behind. Selene must have been wearing jeans today because they could hear the swish as her legs rubbed together, her bare feet padding along the wood floor.

“I’m not going to have this conversation with you.”

“We need to.” Selene’s voice was soft, almost brittle; hearing their name from her lips cut through them, dragging along their chest. They huffed, looking at the question in front of them: A four-letter word for enduring through difficulty. “No, we don-”

“Yes, we do!” She exclaimed. She had walked before them, and Cory couldn’t look at her. “We need to talk about what happened. We need to talk about it, Cory.”

  “No, we don’t.”

Cory’s chest was heaving now, shoulders shaking, and the words on the page in front of them seemed to swim around the page and trickle off the side. “I don’t need to! I don’t need to – to talk about them or how they left. They did. They chose a different side and left; that’s the end, and that’s it.” It’s not like they took my heart along with them. It’s not like I’m aching now that they’re gone.

Hands curled around Cory’s own, which had begun to grip the book so tight that the pages underneath their hands were crinkling, folding up under the pressure of their grasp.  Her hands slowly wrested the book out and took its place. Had her hands always been this soft?

“I – I just…” They tried to breathe, but each breath left them more lightheaded. “I don’t know how to talk about it. How do I talk about how they – how they left?” Their voice broke. “How could they just walk away when I told them? I was so excited. I had dreamed of this for years, and they wanted nothing to do with it. They didn’t care. They didn’t care.”

They could see their family's faces, the frowns and disappointed glances saying, ‘You’re still pursuing this. We told you to drop this nonsensical dream. Live in the real world like all the rest of us.’ They could feel the sinking in their stomach as they realized that no one was celebrating with them. Feel the numbness spreading through their body as their mother banished them from the house, telling them they would not be welcome back unless they gave up these silly fantasies.

“I – how am I supposed to talk about this!?” Their cheeks were warm and wet, and Cory felt Selene reach up, wiping off what tears she could. “What do I say?”

She took a deep breath before speaking. “Maybe start from the beginning.”

“I don’t want to burden you.”

She chuckled, hand now resting on Cory’s cheek. “Don’t you think I would have already said something if I thought you were a burden?”

They looked up at her, brows pulling together, before, “I guess so.”

“You’re no burden to me, and even if you were, you are a burden I would gladly carry.”

Another wave of tears hit, this time accompanied by deep, guttural sobs hiccupping from their chest. Selene just held them. Smooshed between her arms, their body quaking and shivering, everything spilled out. The horror, confusion, guilt, and shame. How much they wished things were different. As they talked, the knot in Cory’s chest slowly unraveled until, at last, it felt like they could breathe again.