Malia came back with an open can of Coke and guided me into the living room.
All around the room, there were pictures of Dee and Malia. I knew most of this was probably Dee’s stuff, since up until recently she had been living alone, but there were signs of Malia moving in. A couple of pieces of football memorabilia were up in one corner, and a backdrop was set up in another with lighting and camera equipment near it.
The sense of déjà vu of being with Malia in the house was a bit unsettling, though I was glad to note that Dee didn’t seem to be around. I sat down on the couch, and Malia sat across from me on one of the chairs. She was wearing loose sweatpants with one leg tied in a knot over her stump, and a tank top under an open baseball jersey. Her hair was up in a bun, and she was wearing minimal makeup, but despite the toned-down, everyday look, she was still incredible. She could wear anything and look amazing.
Or nothing.
I had to swallow that thought. This was no time for getting my mind sidetracked by all that. I needed to remind myself why I was here. To apologize for the last time, I let those thoughts reign supreme.
“First off,” I said, sitting on the couch and trying to break the polite silence between us, “I wanted to say I was sorry for how I handled myself the other day. And for not coming to see you sooner about it.”
She smiled.
“I appreciate that,” she said. “I was wondering what was up.”
I gave her a basic rundown on my history, starting from when I was very young with my parents. I told her about how my father had thrown me down the stairs when I was ten and how that was the first time authorities were called to the house. I told her about how we lived in a rat-infested apartment in Quebec and how I mostly only spoke French as a child.
Then, I told her how they would abandon me when I got to be eleven. How I spent so much time alone, afraid that if I met someone, they would leave me like my parents did. How bitter I was about that, even still.
I told her how Hank and Lana had saved me. That they taught me how to be okay with my past, even if I couldn’t get quite past it yet. How I would fight with aspects of it all my life. All the foster homes I stayed in, all the people who took me in only to let me go, all that was gone now. Hank and Lana were my parents, and I was an adult now.
But some wounds never fully heal.
She nodded and stayed pretty quiet while I talked, only speaking when she had a question or to empathize with me.
“So,” I said, “all of that combined to make me very much who I am. But even with all that, it’s my own issues. My own abandonment issues that get in the way of me being more out there, more put together in situations like the other day. I just haven’t had certain experiences, and when I don’t know how to react, I get anxious and then panic sometimes. And my panic responses are fight or flight. Since there was no one for me to fight…”
“You ran,” she said. “I get it. I get it a lot more than you realize, probably.”
“How so?”
“My leg,” she said simply. “When I lost it, the only thing I wanted to do was run away. Maybe not physically, of course, but mentally. I wanted to hide from the world. I wanted to be left alone.
“But then you ran to my rescue at Dina’s, and I realized I was wrong. I had taken those thoughts and fears and projected them on you. It wasn’t fair. Then I got to talk to you, and we clicked.”
“We did,” I admitted. “We absolutely clicked.”
“I don’t blame you for having your issues. I don’t blame you for how you respond to them,” she said. “As long as you don’t intentionally hurt me, I understand the need for space sometimes.”
She was seriously the best human ever. Just as I was about to stand and tell her thank you and that I would leave her alone, a buzzer went off in the kitchen.
“Oh, cookies are ready,” she said. “Why don’t you stay for lunch?”
21
MALIA
Gerry showing up and apologizing was more than I had expected, if I was honest with myself. After three days, I figured he was either too embarrassed to say anything and would ghost me as long as possible, or I would find out he would have gotten my number or email address from Wendy and did the coward’s way of apologizing through text. It was a bold and honorable move to want to do it in person. I appreciated that.