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“Aleric. Have those wordsevercome out of my mouth?”
I laughed. “Subtext, Callie. It’s all about the subtext.”
She sighed, but I could tell she was smiling. “Only you get to decide when you feel comfortable letting people in.”
She’d been saying that one for years, and I supposed she was right, but it felt like every time I let myself get vulnerable, it was thrown in my face. I knew Camillo was angry about my being hired for the role of him, but I didn’t realize how cutting he could be.
I didn’t know he’d seen my most tender scars, and I didn’t realize how sharp his tongue was.
Lesson learned.
“I know I shouldn’t let what he said bother me.”
“Oh, you know I’m never going to say that. Being insulted is always going to sting. Let yourself feel your emotions. But don’t?—”
“Let someone else’s opinions define how I see myself. I am smart. I’m good at my job.”
“And?”
“And I’m allowed to have a trauma response when someone triggers me. PTSD doesn’t define my self-worth.” I’d memorized her little booklet of sayings, and sometimes they worked. Today was not that day. I felt sick to my stomach at the thought of Camillo watching me on set. Of him judging me. Critiquing me. Waiting for his moment to tell me what shit-ass job I was doing.
“Can you say it like you mean it?”
I snorted. “Not today.”
“Fair enough. Let’s make a goal for next Wednesday. What do you think you can realistically accomplish?”
I hated weekly goals. I had to come up with some way to show her I was taking care of myself, which was not one of my strong suits. I rubbed at my eyes and groaned as I grasped at something—anything—that would satisfy her. “Uh…five things I like about myself,” I said, tapping my chin. “And five things I did to make someone else feel good about themselves.”
“How about three,” she amended, taking pity on me. “It’s going to be a rough week for you.”
I hated that she was right, but I decided to embrace it. “Let’s say two to start and three if I can manage it?”
“I’m proud of you, Aleric.”
Those words hit where it hurt, but in the best way. People didn’t say that often. Shit, who was I kidding. People said thatnever. And I knew it was kind of her job, but she managed it in a way that felt so genuine I couldn’t help but believe her.
My whole body went warm.
Not nearly as warm as when Camillio had praised me, but that was something else. That was something I was refusing to address right then.
Or ever.
My phone began to buzz, and I knew I was being summoned for hair and makeup. “I have to go.”
“Goo—uh, wait. Sorry. What do you say when you want to wish someone well? On set.”
I wasn’t a superstitious man. I had been known to whisper Macbeth a time or two, just to test the theory that it was all bullshit. It was. No one ever heard me, so maybe the curse was just one of those self-fulfilling prophecies.
But I wasn’t messing with the universe today.
“Just tell me to have an average day. I’m scared if you mention my leg, the universe will take you seriously.”
“Have an average day, and you know you can call me if you need me.”
I hummed an acknowledgment and hung up, not bothering to check my phone as I stood up and headed out the door. The first real part of my day was beginning, and the only thing I could do was run from the shadowy, ugly memories from when I was young and chase the hopeful light at the end of this tunnel.
“Cut!”