Page 119 of Kept in the Dark

“Why didn’t he say it?” I insist. “I explained my concerns last night; hecould’ve—”

I stop.

So that is it, then? You have decided? You chose for us both?

I didn’t explain my concerns. He came in, and I told him what I’d already decided. He didn’t suggest alternatives because I didn’t let him. He even pointed it out to me. Why would he confess his love when I was pushing him away?

That’s what I do; I push people away. Moments ago, I was lamenting how lonely I was going to be, like it’s notalwaysmy fault. It totally is. I’m always the one that moves. I’m always the one who leaves. It’s a pattern of behavior.

The blood drains from my face. Oh no. And I did exactly what I accused him of doing. I decided, and I just expected him to go along with my decision. I assumed that if he had a strong enough alternate point of view, he’d push.

But instead, I hurt him. I made him thinkIdidn’t care enough to find a way to stay withhim.

“Fuck,” I curse slowly. “I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah,” she agrees without hesitation.

“But… he’s usually so confident and forceful andblunt! He’s always saying exactly what he thinks.”

My uncomfortable revelations seem to have calmed her somewhat, because she considers my question and all the anger is gone from her voice when she tells me, “I think it’s easy to assume that someone who says what they think without sugarcoating it is going to be a good communicator, but there’s more to it than that.”

I chew on my lip, turning that one over. “I guess itispretty hard for him to understand subtext sometimes,” I agree, thinking back on all the missed jokes, andthat is what I said.

She nods. “There’s a difference between being blunt and being emotionally intelligent. Dimitri says what he thinks, not what he feels. He may not have the tools to understand or express how he feels. Mostpeople don’t. You clearly don’t, even though you’re in, like, the top five smartest people I know.”

My lower lip pops out from between my teeth as my jaw falls slack, and I stare at her, feeling especially prickly and raw from being read like a fucking book. “Whoa. What the hell, Eleanor?”

She shrugs, totally unrepentant as she senses her imminent victory.

I huff a sigh. “Are you some kind of secret therapist or something?”

Her smile is a little rueful this time. “Did you know that they’ve done studies that show that people who read a lot are more empathetic? I was kind of a loner growing up—I read a lot; still do.”

I flash her a half-smile and sit back in my seat. My leg jiggles as I turn over what she’s said. “So, I would have to do all the emotional labor for us?”

“Maybe, or maybe just this time you do. You could tryletting him knowthat you need him to be more open about his feelings—you’re allowed to ask for that, you know—and if he cares, he’ll try to do it for you. And I think we both know he cares,” she winks. “Sometimes you have to learn together how to communicate.”

I stew on that. She’s right.

And that means I owe Dimitri one hell of an apology.

I groan. “I can’t believe what I said to him. I can’t believe I… We have to go back.”

She hoots triumphantly, happy tears shining in her eyes. “Yeah, we do! Take that, unhealed trauma—today, love wins!”

My mind is racing. I know we have hours until they return from their mission, and I have plenty of time to plan what I’ll say, but I’m anxious to start. I may even write myself a little script.

“Oh my God, I’m so pumped. I’m trying not to be a total dweeb about this, but I’m so happy you’re staying. Anything you want to do while we’re outside the fence? I know you haven’t left the mansion in a fewweeks. I could go for an ice cream cone,” she says, almost to herself as she starts the car back up.

I smile. “Ice cream sounds nice. I think I was a kid the last time I had an actual cone. It’s one of the few good memories I have of my dad—we’d always get an ice cream cone before he dropped me back at my mom’s after his weekend.”

She smiles. “That’s nice.”

“Yeah. I don’t have a lot of nice memories, but…” I frown. “Hey… actually… any chance we could stop at my place real quick?”

The look she gives me is wide-eyed. “What?”

“Only for a minute. In his note, Dimitri said that my stuff is going to be repossessed. I don’t care,” I hurry to add when she grimaces, “but there’s a photo album from when I was little, and it’s the only pictures I have of my dad. Stuff is stuff, but if staying with Dimitri ends up meaning that I have to stay a missing person, memories are the only thing I care about losing.” And then, because she doesn’t quite look convinced, I add, “It’ll seriously take five minutes. I know exactly which box it’s in and exactly where the box is in the U-Haul.”