His hand slides down my back, rubbing small circles as I keep my mind on the action that is air in and out of my lungs. I’ve never considered what it means to have to think about breathing, but right now, I think I could just stop again. I grab his hand and choke down a sob.
Essos leans into me, his forehead pressing to the side of my head. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, and he sounds genuinely pained. I lean into him, needing him to be my rock. Cat has been that for me for so long, but right now, he is the one I want, no,need, holding my hand.
Meeting my parents is not something that even occurred to me to ask Essos about. They’ve been out of my life for so long that my mind goes blank even thinking about it now.
Of course, when I was younger, I would think of them. When all my classmates were making gifts for their parents for Mother’s Day and Father's Day, I made filler gifts or something for my social worker. Or that one year, a gift for that troll of a foster mom who demanded it. My teachers and social workers telling me that my parents would be so proud of me if they could see me became a mantra.
Now I could find out if they actually were proud of me.
Do I want to find out? Do they count as my parents if I had a prior life? Were they just placeholder parents, meant to bring me into the world just so I could die? My brain moves a mile a minute, considering the possibilities. Would they want to know me? Did they watch me grow up, or did they know that I was something more—a sojourner, passing through on my way from one life to the next?
I sit up abruptly, nearly taking out Essos. He stays silent, waiting as I filter through each scenario in my head. Meeting them and them being proud, meeting them and them being disappointed, not meeting them, not meeting them and regretting it. Would I be able to have a relationship with them?
“I...I don’t know.” I glance at him for guidance, so lost in the question that I forget to be wary of him. I feel that familiar tug toward him, the same one I’ve been feeling through this entire process. I want to open my heart to him and lay myself bare at his feet, but I can’t do that, knowing what I know about him. I start to lean into him, but then pull back, so I can search his face for an answer. Essos reaches out and takes my other hand, further linking us and prompting my heart to summersault, knowing that I have someone sitting beside me who understands me. I stare where our hands are connected, wanting to dig my nails into my cut again to remind myself he’s supposed to be the bad guy. His fingertips graze the indent on my palm. He turns it over, giving me a questioning look. I can’t talk about this with him. I close my hand and pull it back.
“Well, I’m glad that Finn talked me into asking you first. I’m pretty sure you would have kicked my ass with that giant tire if I had just surprised you like I planned to.”
I guffaw, looking away, into the fireplace. I’m grateful that he doesn’t ask about the cut on my hand. “That would have been a terrible idea. I’ll have to thank Finn the next time I see him. Can I think about it, or do you need an answer right now?” I face him.
He surprises me by resting his palm on my cheek. It’s such a familiar gesture, and I want to lean into the warmth, into the comfort he’s offering. “The option will be open to you whenever you choose to use it. I’m just sorry I didn’t think of it sooner.”
“What did make you think of it?” I lean away from him. He looks hurt for a second but recovers quickly.
“Catalina said something about looking in on her parents again, and I told her that we could work something out. She mentioned how thankful she is that she got to see them, even if they will never know she’s watching. It got the wheels spinning, even if they do move slowly sometimes.”
I stand up, and he stands up quickly too.
“I’d like time to think about it, if that’s all right with you. Alone,” I emphasize.
He puts his hands in his pockets and nods, looking chastened.“My door is open once you make your decision either way.”
I quickly walk to the door and pause. I take a breath and face him. He’s still watching me. “Can I go to the gardens? I know you said—”
“I know what I said. You are welcome in the gardens whenever you like. I know you dreamed of being a florist. I hope you start to see the space as a safe one for you.”
Words of thanks get stuck in my throat, so I just nod and walk out. I lean against the door, closing my eyes, wondering if I can handle being alone with him again. I head toward the stairs and my room, Dave following faithfully behind me, but then I change my mind and go straight outside to sit in the garden.
I stumble across a bucket with tools, and I take a small hedge cutter and use it to trim a few spots that are starting to be overgrown. I gather bouquets to put in my and Cat’s rooms. I feel at home here, gazing at the flowers and walking the paths as Dave shadows me.
The busywork distracts me from the problem at hand. But as soon as I think about how distracting this work has been, it stops being distracting, and my worries come flooding back.
When I grew up in foster care, I thought I would never have to worry about parental approval. Then Phil and Melinda adopted me. I felt pressure to live up to their expectations, but I don’t think it’s fair to compare the expectations my living parents set versus the ones imagined in my head that my birth parents might have had. I thought I was done trying to live up to some unknown ideal, but here I am, wondering again if I will measure up to the person they hoped I would become. I sit on the ground, not caring if I tear my tights or dirty my skirt, and curl my feet under me. I drop my head into my hands, all the flowers I painstakingly picked discarded at my side.
It’s been so long since I cried about my parents and all the things they would never be there for, but now that they’re in my grasp, I’m scared. Scared of not being good enough. I let the tears start flowing and ride the emotional waves as they rock me. The hard sobs that make me think I’m going to break a rib are no help for the headache that has plagued me since the ball last night.
Dave sits beside me, licking my tears as they stream down my face. I’m still in that position when Cat finds me, maybe an hour later. She says nothing, just sits down on the other side of me, arm around my shoulders.
My relationship with Cat strikes the perfect balance for support. Since freshman year, when we were on our own for the first time, the first few months were rough on her, being away from her family. I was there for her, and that was what brought us together and bonded us as friends. There would be days or nights when she would climb into my bed, knowing that I was the one in need of TLC.
Today is the day that I need her comfort, and in a way that we never thought I would.
“You could have warned me, you know.” I look at her through puffy eyes.
She shakes her head. “Essos was so excited to have come up with some grand plan. I didn’t know what it was until he came to tell me after you left his office. I wanted to give you some time to properly digest before bombarding you. He seemed worried.” She sounds like she's all in for trusting him, and I want to be mad at her but can’t manage to get past feeling sorry for myself.
“I don’t want to talk about Essos right now. I want to think about what I’m going to do. I mean, I never really thought about what it would be like to meet them.”
“Never ever?” She starts to rub my arms soothingly.