by Gia Riley
But he loves me. I don’t know what to do with his words and it makes me feel even more out of control than I already am.
Kipton reaches for my chin, forcing me to look at him whether I want to or not. His blue eyes are sparkling with unshed tears of his own. “I meant every word, Sophie. I do love you.”
It’s too much. His words are suffocating me and I need air. “Kipton, no.” I shake my head back and forth. The only person I’ve ever heard those words from is my mom. I’ve always understood hatred better than love. At least I knew what it physically felt like. I could even see it. But love is so much more mysterious. It’s not always tangible. That confuses me—to have to rely on trust in order to believe it.
“I’m not going to deny it anymore.”
“I forgive you, Kipton. I wish I could forget. But it all stays inside me no matter how hard I try to forget about it.”
“I’m not asking you to forget anything, but I want you to know you have me to lean on. I’m not going anywhere, Sophie. No matter how much you push when you’re in doubt, I’ll push back harder.”
“Kipton, I don’t know what to do with all of this. My head feels so jumbled up every minute of the day.” I suck in a breath, unable to get rid of the tightening in my chest as I teeter over the edge of a panic attack. “I can’t figure you out.” Without further warning, the dam breaks. I reach out for him as my tears soak my cheeks. I’m not supposed to cry, but it’s no longer up to me.
“Come here, beautiful.” I cling to his warmth as I continue to sob. I’ve never experienced anger out of love. It’s such a foreign concept. But if it’s possible, then maybe he’s my safety from myself. “Please don’t cry. You have me now.”
I choke on a sob, but let out every ounce of anger, pain, grief, and sadness that’s strangling my sanity. Kipton wants me and I need him. Because when I’m in his arms, I feel stronger. Strong enough to fight another day.
“Let me love you, Sophie,” he whispers in my ear.
“How, Kipton?”
“I’ll show you—everyday.”
KIPTON’S HELD TRUE TO HIS word which is another thing I’ve had to get used to—someone making a promise and actually keeping it. My dad used to promise my mom he would change, or tell her he would work on his laundry list of flaws, but he never did. Over time, he only became bitter and resentful of the woman who was trying to change him instead of accepting him for the man that he was. I use the term man lightly, because my father loved alcohol more than his own family. Whether he was at the bar until early morning, or getting caught in the back seat of his car with some bar whore, my mom always knew. She didn’t have to see it first hand to know the rumors swirling around town were true.
One night when the arguing became too much to bare, I sat outside on the roof next to my bedroom window and made a pact with myself to never settle in love. I’d rather be alone than in a loveless relationship like theirs. I remember leaning my head against the siding of the house, as I searched the sky for the star that sparkled the most. I begged that star to grant me my one wish—to give me the power to be strong enough to survive this life on my own and without regret. From that night onward, I let the happiness my ex stole from me and the pain of my parents arguing dissolve—instead becoming peacefully numb. I stopped making myself physically sick, but mentally, I wasn’t any better. Who knows, maybe I was never truly living, rather only existing in my day-to-day life. Either way, it was much easier to look forward to tomorrow when it wasn’t already lacking hope before the sun ever rose.
My plan worked for a while with the numbness never wavering. That was until Kipton came into my life, but it wasn’t just him that sent me spiraling. It was all the changes and the pressure of living up to expectations I wasn’t sure I deserved. My mind was constantly at war with my body, warning me what would happen if I ever messed up—and did I ever. Between the concussion and giving myself to Kipton, I was afraid to get emotionally attached. And as expected, when love was thrown into the mix, I started to drown.
But Kipton’s shown me over the past three weeks just how hard he can love. Whether it’s his text messages or in every kiss, he’s been incredible. I try to stay in the present, but living in the moment isn’t easy. Connecting with my emotions brings painful memories to the surface—ones I’ve worked hard to deny ever existed. But Kipton’s reminded me the benefits of an optimistic attitude. Without dwelling on the negative, I’m no longer waiting for the fear to chase away my happiness.
As I sit here in astronomy lab revived and happy, it’s tough to stay focused on my assignment. My mind easily tempts me with a vivid play-by-play of my planetarium tryst with Kipton. Squirming around on my chair, I can’t dull the ache inside of me.
As I continue to estimate star locations in the sky, a piece of paper lands on my notebook. Quickly snatching it before the professor notices, I smile as soon as I read the words. Apparently, we’re on the same wavelength.
Wanna go make a new memory in the planetarium?
Giggling, I look up and find Kipton gazing over his shoulder. He winks and my stomach flutters in response with hyper butterflies ready to take flight. Mouthing the words, behave, I jump when I realize Oliver is taking in our entire exchange. “Boyfriend amusing you?” He asks, with his glasses balancing on the tip of his nose. I have the urge to push them back up on his face so they don’t fall off, but he eventually stops staring at me long enough to adjust them on his own.
“Um, yeah. Sorry.”
“That’s a shame.”
As I erase a mistake on my paper, I whisper, “Why’s that a shame?”
“Because I have a lot to offer a lady, too. When you requested to be my partner I figured you were hot for me. I’ve noticed you sneaking glances at me during class.”
Snorting, I stifle my laughter with a couple of coughs. Kipton turns around to make sure I’m okay. I give him the thumbs up and he shakes his head before going back to work. His lab partner spends most of the class popping bubbles and twirling her hair. Kipton says she smells like a mixture of cotton candy and cat urine. The thought of him animatedly describing her to me has me laughing all over again. I rest my head on the table as my shoulders shake. We’re dismissed during my laughter fit, but I can’t stop laughing. “What are you doing, beautiful?”
I lift my head to see everyone filing out of the classroom. “Sorry. I’m good.”
“Don’t apologize, I could watch you laugh all day. But Oliver ran out of here like the place was on fire.”
“He thinks I want him.”
Kipton chuckles and tucks my notebook inside my bag for me. “Poor guy.”
He and I walk hand in hand back to my dorm. I tighten my sweater around my middle, the fall weather’s been intensifying the closer we get to the holiday break. He pulls me close to his body to shield me from the wind while my hair whips around my face like I’m stuck in a tornado. I insisted we walk to class today, but I’m wishing we could hop into Kipton’s warm car instead. I also don’t miss the fact that he hasn’t said a word to me since we left class. “You’re quiet Kipton, what’s up?” I don’t like quiet, it makes me anxious.
At first he doesn’t answer, but then changes his mind. “I didn’t want to pry, but how have your sessions been going? You haven’t said a word about them since you started.”
“They’re okay. Michelle is nice. She’s easier to talk to than my therapist back home.”
As promised, I’ve been seeing a counselor on campus. Being diagnosed as a depressive bulimic was hard the first time, but hearing it from Michelle put a whole new spin on how out of touch I’ve been with reality and my body. I may have thought I was recovered before I came to Alabama, but it never really goes away—I’ll always have the compulsions inside of me.
It’s helped to sort through my past, turning every tiny detail into a valid observation of what led me down this path in the first place. Eventually we started relating it to my present by working through the years I’ve been depressed. It w
as clear to see how anxiety driven I really am. There are very few things I don’t fear. Between the mental mind fucks and the physical abuse, I’ve used purging as a crutch to simply survive.
Despite the progress I’ve made, I still have the desire to purge when I’m stressed out, or hit with a nightmare in the middle of the night. But each time I’m tempted, I’m supposed to grab my journal and write out my thought process. And not an overview, she wants every single detail.
At first I was hesitant because my words were all over the place. When I’m having an anxiety attack or refraining from a purge, I don’t operate in complete sentences. My thoughts are incredibly negative, self-depreciating, and dark. They hurt to write as much as they tear me up to read after the fact.
I wouldn’t ever read them if I wasn’t forced to at the beginning of each session. There’s no small talk in therapy. Instead, Michelle makes me read each new journal entry aloud. Painstakingly, I go over each line and figure out why I felt that way and how I can process it as a lesson instead of beating myself up about it. At first I was frustrated because despite reading and taking feedback from the entries, I was still repeating some of the same thoughts and mistakes over and over. It became impossible to believe I’d ever be able to break the addiction. And that’s exactly what it is. The highs and lows that go along with a purge are hard to stop craving.
Convinced the therapy exercise wasn’t working for me, I was ready to give up. But patterns aren’t easy to break and neither is addiction. So while I’d love to be able to say I’ve refrained from purging, I can’t. It’s still as much a part of me as before, even if the frequency has lessened. With Michelle’s help, I’m more aware of my negative thought process and maybe even a few of the triggers. I definitely won’t be cured overnight and have a lot of deep rooted issues in regards to my childhood to sort through. I was never given a chance to fully grow into the adult I am now. But with time and a lot more patience, it can only get better. I think.
Kipton squeezes my hand. “I’m proud of you, Sophie. It takes strength to face your demons the way you are.” He pulls our joined hands to his lips and kisses the back of my hand. “I don’t expect you to be perfect though. I know you’re still struggling.”
“Thank you for saying that. I’m trying to be what you need.” We increase our pace slightly, both anxious to get out of the cold.
“You already are what I need, Sophie. That will never change.”
I don’t know how I got so lucky to find Kipton, but it’s moments like these I thank my lucky stars for him being able to see beyond my imperfections enough to really love me—the way I always dreamed but never knew existed.
Usually we take a short nap after class, but today Cara’s extra chatty while she waits for Drew. “So what’s the plan for Thanksgiving break? The dorms close Tuesday and we don’t have to be back for almost a week.”
Considering I have very little to go home to other than a lame pizza tradition, I don’t jump to answer her question. My mom and I usually order take-out and watch movies on the couch. I haven’t had a turkey dinner with all the fixings since I was ten. I’m looking forward to seeing her, but I know it won’t be good for me to be back in the house. There’s so many painful memories lurking in that house.
“Hey.” Kipton nudges me with his arm.
“Sorry, what were you saying?”
“I asked what your plans are. If you can get away, I’d love for you to come meet my family for a couple days.”
“Meet your family?” I’ve never met the family before.
“You don’t have to, but I’d like you to come stay with me after you spend some time with your mom. I can show you where I grew up and went to high school. You might have to sit through a little boring conversation, but I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
The thought of meeting his parents scares the ever loving shit out of me. I’m not sure I can do it considering I’m not like the cookie cutter blondes from the country club they’re used to seeing. “It’s only a week, Kipton. The break might be nice.”
“You need a break already?” Cara asks. She finds this amusing and claps for her brother. “Nice job, Kippy. It only took you three weeks of official dating to drive the poor girl insane.”
I laugh at her, but Kipton’s not the least bit entertained. “Cara, can you give us a minute alone?”
“Uh oh. Sorry, Sophie. I’m out.” She stands up and takes off running without having to be asked a second time. Maybe I should run too. I don’t want to be away from Kipton for the entire break, but I’ll also be missing my therapy sessions. I don’t want to take two steps backwards while we’re away.
Kipton’s facing me on my pillow, holding my hands in his. “You don’t want to come?”
“Yes and no.” This whole honesty thing is exhausting, but Michelle told me one of the best ways to avoid my negativity, is to address it the moment I feel it.
“Why not?”
“They don’t know about my issues. Unless one of you said something. I know you’re a close family.” I duck my head, feeling ashamed that my screwed up self has to put a damper on his plans for the two of us. I’m not sure if his family will accept me, or label me too broken to repair.
“No, they don’t know. And they won’t unless you want them to. I’ve never brought a girl home, Sophie. I’m just as nervous as you are.”
This surprises me. I was sure someone made it home, even if it was just a high school girlfriend. “Never?”
“Never. Come on, beautiful. Don’t deprive me of showing you off to my friends and making them jealous. I’ve waited a long time for this.”
I appreciate him trying to make light of the situation and make it about his needs instead of my weaknesses. “I have to see my mom on Thanksgiving Day, or she’ll be all alone.”
“That’s okay. I want you to see her and have fun. That will give you a couple days with her and then I’d get you for the rest. We eat at the club on Thanksgiving Day, but the day after my mom insists on cooking to make up for it. Will that work? I want to spend Thanksgiving with my girl. Christmas too. So we can make plans for that whenever you’re ready.”
This must really be how it is when you’re in a real relationship. The compromise and joint celebrations I’ve only seen in movies. Although I’m slightly overwhelmed at the way Kipton is pushing me to do all these things as a couple, I’m nervous. For once in my life I think I’m strong enough to get it right and experience normalcy. “I’ll come. It’s been awhile since I’ve had a real sit down dinner. And if your parents will accept me, then I’d love to meet them. Will Cara be there too? I think it would help having her there.”
“Of course she will. Probably Drew too at some point. So you won’t be all alone in the spotlight.”
I smile. He gets it. “Okay. I’m in.”
“Thank you, Sophie, for being brave enough to try. They’re gonna love you as much as I do.” He snuggles me closer, my head now resting on his chest. His steady breathing is slowly lulling me to sleep.
“Kipton,” I whisper.
“Hmm.” His voice is deeper than normal, lighting me up inside.
“Thank you for inviting me.”
“You’re welcome.”
I lay in his arms for several more minutes soaking up the warmth of his body and safety of his arms. My eyelashes flick against his skin before I’m too content to fight off sleep another minute. For once I’m looking forward to the future.
“Please let me be strong enough.”
THE LAST FEW DAYS BEFORE break fly by and before I know it, it’s the night before I’m headed home. Everyone’s buzzing around campus packing bags and gearing up for one last night of partying before we all go our separate ways in the morning. As of today, I’ve completed my necessary counseling hours in order to rejoin the gymnastics team at the end of the break. It wasn’t mandatory that I leave, but considering the shape I was in, a leave of absence was the smart thing for me to do.
Although I’
ve lost weeks of training, Coach Evans has been surprisingly supportive of time away. At first the thought of telling him the truth almost was too much to bare, but Kipton insisted on joining me for the meeting. Maybe it was his presence that dulled Coach’s wrath, but he was reasonable of all things. Assuring me I can still be ready for the start of the season if I work hard enough, I didn’t find myself hunched over the trashcan that night. Instead, I was with Kipton, enjoying a normal night out with my boyfriend.
“You almost ready, Sophie?” Cara asks while curling the same strand of hair three times in a row until it bounces perfectly.
“Whenever you’re done, we can go. Are we waiting for Drew?”
“No. He’s meeting us there after his shift.”
“Okay.” I hear my cell ringing from inside my purse. It’s Kipton. “Hello.”
“How long until you get here?” He shouts, over the background noise.
I pull the phone away from my ear and rub my aching eardrum. “Cara said she’s ready so we should be leaving in about fifteen minutes, maybe twenty.” Cara throws her brush at me and I duck to miss it. “You almost hit me, Cara!”
“Fight nice, girls.” He laughs. “There’s no rush. I just wanted to make sure I was outside when you got here to walk you inside.”
“That’s sweet, but I think you just want to keep me away from Caleb.”
“I have my reasons, beautiful. He may be one of them. Text me when you get here if you don’t see me, okay.”
“Okay. See you soon.”
“Bye, babe.”
I sigh louder than necessary and toss my phone on my bed. Giving myself one last look in the mirror, I decide this is as good as it’s going to get.
“What’s wrong? You seem blah tonight, Sophie.” Cara asks.
“I think—nevermind.” I flop down onto my mattress and watch Cara put the finishing touches on her make-up.