Private Feelings
Reed
And now the hard part.
The time had come to leave the hospital hallway. The time had come to finally enter her room. With each passing minute, I kept trying. But one way or another, I kept failing.
I stared at the numerals — 4007 — like they'd become the most interesting sight in the world. I studied the doorknob — smooth and silver — watching it as though it was a set of fangs.
Taking a deep breath, the latest of several, I tried remembering why this was the "hard part" again. I asked myself what I was comparing it to. It was a few seconds later that the answer arrived...and I couldn't help feeling just a little ashamed. Much as I didn't like to admit it, I realized that it had been easier to face Ivy before — when she was lying still, lying silent, and lying calmly with her eyes closed.
But now things had changed. Now I'd gotten the call, and learned that she was awake.
Lowering my gaze, I stared at my sweater and simple pants, hearing the bouquet crinkle as I hugged it closer. How was I supposed to proceed with this? Did I start with the pleasantries, or would the apology come first? After all, I couldn't help but feel responsible for her situation. Sabine had been after me. Instead, the girl I'd called friend had shot the girl I'd called "enemy."
Those labels stood out.
For a while now, there had been moments when I'd paused to consider the funny thing about Ivy: In the short span of time that our relationship had changed, she'd turned out to be a truer friend than Sabine ever was.
On second thought...maybe it wasn't such a funny thing after all. Maybe it wasn't so strange. Slowly, my eyes rose to the numbers again, staring curiously.
Much as I hadn't liked to admit it, there had always been something about the girl behind that door — something that I couldn't quite put my finger on. There were moments when I had been perplexed by her, angry at her, and even jealous of her — for obvious reasons. Ultimately, however, I couldn't quite bring myself to hate her, despite how tempting she'd tried making it.
Ivy was on an anti-Billings crusade, and there had been times when she'd made me a part of that. However, there had also been times when I'd looked into her eyes while we were talking, and saw what appeared to be the same thing I'd felt at the moment: restraint. Unquestionably, she'd treated me with the same amount of distrust that she'd give any Billings Girl...but not the same amount of disdain. With my sisters, she'd been angry and spiteful. With me, on the other hand, she'd been mostly arrogant and playful — as though I wasn't quite worth the same level of hostility, as though she'd only lash out when I made her mad, or when I got in her way.
For a few seconds, I recalled a certain something I'd once heard: "Don't play dumb. It's beneath you." My eyes drifted to the floor, and I felt a long-delayed smile overtaking my lips, along with a long-delayed chuckle escaping them. I still didn't know if that statement had been a compliment, but what I did know was that there were times when I'd almost wanted to laugh at the girl behind the door. Not to mock her, and not to taunt her, but because I'd genuinely found her humorous on occasion.
With that positivity in tow, I took another deep breath, gripped the doorknob, and slowly, entered the room.
For the first few seconds, I kept my eyes on the floor, eyeing the white tiles as though they were somehow different from the ones in the hall. Finally — and in no time at all — I found the courage to glance up at the bed. There she was, just as I'd last seen her — lying still, lying silent, and lying calmly with her eyes closed.
Though I was inwardly embarrassed when it came, a sudden wave of relief began coursing through my body...one which quickly faded when another realization sunk in: Ivy wasn't alone.
Swaying my gaze from the bed, I locked eyes with the dark-haired woman in the chair, the woman I quickly identified as Ivy's mother.
My entire body froze...except for my hands, which began nervously playing with the bouquet's wrapping. As the seconds passed, and as my mouth hung limply open, a slew of questions filled my mind. Did she know who I was? Did she know my connection to Sabine? And above all, did she know that I was part of the reason her daughter was lying here?
Maybe it wasn't a slew of questions after all. Maybe those were just several variations of the same one. In any case, while awaiting the answers, I suddenly found myself making more and more noise with the paper. It seemed like part of me was trying to draw her attention away from my shock, and toward my flowers. Away from the negative, and to the positive.
It soon dawned on me that this would only work for so long. I could tell that in about two seconds, she was going to ask for my identity.
"Hi," I whispered, nervously speaking before she could, "...I'm a friend of Ivy's." For the moment, it seemed best to simply leave things at the obvious — no more, and no less.
"Hi," she said back, speaking quite softly. She wore a cute, cream-colored top and stylish black pants, indicating just where Ivy got her sense of fashion from. The only thing marring her appearance was the frown.
"I, um..." My gaze drifted slowly to Ivy again, staring upon eyes that were still closed. Her chest moved up and down with each breath, slowly, gently. "I heard that she'd woken up."
The woman nodded, managing a small grin. "She drifted back to sleep a little while ago."
"Oh," I said quietly. "Well it's...it's good that she's getting better." Duh. I felt like kicking myself, but I didn't know what else to say; I heard this voice in my head telling me to choose my words carefully.
She began to look me over, and I quickly cleared my mind, suddenly worried that she could read it. "A friend." There was a peculiar hint to her tone as she said the words; it sounded almost as though she was surprised that Ivy had any friends.
Quietly, I let my gaze drift downward, wishing I hadn't noticed the curiosity in her voice.
She spoke again, and did so quietly. "Are you her best friend?"
I quickly looked up, and one of my eyebrows had risen.
She continued watching me, waiting for an answer. By the look on her face, I could tell that she was hoping I'd say "yes."
"I, um..." It seemed I just couldn't stop mumbling.
After a while, she decided to ask something else. "How did you two meet?"
Great. Just great. "Well...we..." In that moment, I decided that I had to tell her something that would comfort her, but I also had to tell her something honest. The questions passed through my head immediately. Where was I supposed to begin? What was I supposed to say?
Could I honestly recite all of the nasty details of my history with Ivy? Could I honestly bad-mouth her to her own mother? Could I tell her about our first meeting in the cafeteria? Our arguments over Billings? Our confrontations at the fund-raiser? Our respective feelings for Josh? Our harsh words amidst everything?
Could I admit that we'd only recently become friends? That we'd once been enemies? And if she asked why, could I actually tell her that Ivy had been the aggressor back then?
"I..."
She waited.
Quietly, I glanced over at Ivy once more, watching her still figure, her peaceful face. My previous strategy flashed through my mind again: I had to say something comforting, but I also had to say something honest.
And then, I turned back to Mrs. Slade, and spoke to her softly. "I haven't known your daughter for very long...but I feel like I know her pretty well."
She listened carefully.
Holding the bouquet to my chest, I lowered my eyes to the flowers. "I'm not perfect...and neither is she. Everyone has their flaws...but there are some things that I deeply admire about Ivy." I felt a tiny smile crossing my face; there was a part of me that seemed relieved to admit what I was admitting, and another part of me that felt sort of strange, like I was treading through unexplored emotional territory — which I was.
It was then that I glanced up at Mrs. Slade, and saw that she clearly wanted me to expand on what I'd said.
Lowering my eyes again, I recalled one of my early impressions of Ivy — which was not unlike my early impressions of the Billings Girls. "I've always admired how glamourous and beautiful she is."
Mrs. Slade made a half smile.
"When I actually got to know her fairly well..." I trailed off and glanced away a moment, then looked her straight in the eyes again, licking my lips. "Let's just say that she's got a lot of boldness to her."
She chuckled suddenly, averting her eyes with a knowing grin. "That she does."
To my surprise, I found myself laughing as well. "And..." I briefly paused between chuckles, "there are times when I admire her passion in that regard. There are times when I admire her strength." I slowly nodded, confirming it to myself with a smile.
Mrs. Slade glanced over at her daughter.
"She's got integrity," I said, briefly lifting my eyebrows. "Most girls would do just about anything to get into Billings, and would accept an invitation no matter what, but Ivy..." My words trailed off, as I became worried that I may have hit a sensitive spot.
The woman calmly looked back at me.
After a brief silence, I simply repeated my previous statement, nodding to myself once again as I thought about it. "She's got integrity." And I respected her for it, even if the two of us did have our differences on certain Billings-related matters.
My latest statement had drawn another smile from Ivy's mom. It was then that I began to feel guilty over what I had to say next.
"And, um..." I paused, averting my eyes from hers, "you're not going to like what I have to say now...but there was a time when I suspected that Ivy might be...well..." How could I put this lightly? "There was a time when I thought that she might have been...involved...in some of the things that happened — the things that Sabine did."
She eyed me calmly.
I got the feeling I usually did when I was about to blush. "And I said some things back then...things which I now regret." I made an awkward face as the statement left my mouth. "But your daughter proved forgiving," I nodded, glancing at Ivy again. "And beyond that, she later helped me in a very important way."
Another silence came over me, and I suddenly began to look elsewhere, staring at nothing in particular. I was beginning to realize that I admired a certain someone more than I ever knew — or at least, more than I'd ever been willing to acknowledge.
Looking back toward Mrs. Slade, I saw that she was once again eyeing her daughter...and that was when I noticed a light smile on her face — soft, warm, constant. At the same moment, I could feel something similar radiating within myself. I liked the fact that I'd helped put that smile there. I liked what was happening between Ivy and her mom...and I liked what was happening between Ivy and me.
Quietly, as though I didn't want to ruin anything, I spoke up again. "And another trait of hers that I admire..." I quickly searched my mind for something, remembering my decision to be comforting, but honest. And then I began to smile, crooking my head a tad to the side. "She's pretty good with computers."
Once again, Mrs. Slade chuckled. "...That she is," she slowly repeated, sounding envious.
Eyeing the white tiles with a grin, I felt another pause coming over me. When it ended, I said one of the last things I'd expected to when entering the room. "I was mistaken."
She eyed me with a calm grin. "About what?"
"About what I said before." Looking up, my eyes found Ivy again. "I don't know your daughter quite as well as I once thought I did...and the same can be said for her when it comes to me..." I stopped to watch her for a moment, and then spoke with absolute confidence, "but I have a feeling that all of that's going to change in the near future."
After a little while, I heard Mrs. Slade's soft voice again. "Why don't I let you get started?" With that said, she began to exit the room. "I'm going to grab some coffee."
My hands tightened slightly. "...I'm not sure what I should do."
"Why don't you just speak...say whatever it is you'd like to say." She touched my shoulder as she passed, and a moment later, Ivy and I were alone.
"I..." The mumbling began again, to no one in particular now. Slowly, I turned toward Ivy again, staring at her closed eyes, her serene state. After another moment's hesitation, I quietly walked over to her, carrying the flowers with me.
For a little while, I simply watched her. And then, I gently spoke. "There's one thing I didn't mention...one thing I never took the time to say."
Her slow, calm breathing continued.
"Thank you," I uttered softly. In brief time, my thoughts began moving backward, focusing on a certain moment. "Before I confronted Sabine...you were worried about me." I paused, then slowly nodded, accepting what I was about to say. "You cared about me. I was so emotional at the time that I never stopped to acknowledge it..." my voice lowered, "but I do appreciate it."
Then the silence came again. I simply stared, eyeing the girl before me, beginning to grin as I watched her. Was this really happening? Was this really the beginning of an unexpected friendship? Tossing my gaze upward, I began entertaining the thought, considering the possibilities.
I could see us now, sitting in some high room of her mansion, plopped on a plush cotton cover as we did each other's hair and nails. I smiled as the vision began, seeing the two of us sitting there working — me with my messy 'do and dry skin, Ivy with her smooth locks and ridiculously perfect hands and feet. I chuckled as the vision continued, seeing the two of us sitting there chatting — me liking a certain couple from our favorite show, Ivy deciding she liked another. I giggled as the vision ended, seeing the two of us sitting there teasing — me getting a sudden text message from Noelle, Ivy rolling her eyes, taking my phone, and chucking it across the room.
Looking down at her again, I paused a moment, before quietly speaking once more. "Thanks for looking out for me," I grinned. "Get well soon."
And then, still clutching the bouquet, I slowly bent down, and placed a light kiss on Ivy's forehead. Leaving the flowers by her bed, I turned and began walking toward the door.
I don't know what it was, but as I reached the doorway, something told me to turn back around. Coming to a halt, I did just that...
And then I froze.
For just one second, one all-too-brief second, I saw a stare. Directed straight at me. Calm. Sweet. Peaceful.
And then it was gone.
Almost as quickly as I'd turned around — but not quite — Ivy had closed her eyes again. She'd done it timidly. She'd done it cautiously. And though I couldn't read her mind, I imagine she'd also done it hopefully.
Keeping still, and keeping quiet, she lay there — hoping I hadn't seen what she wasn't ready for me to see. Hoping I hadn't learned what she wasn't ready for me to learn.
Keeping still, and keeping quiet, I stood there — hoping she hadn't heard what I wasn't ready for her to hear. Hoping she hadn't learned what I wasn't ready for her to learn.
Ours had become an odd relationship indeed. There was a time when neither of us had ever expected to feel the way we now did, a time when neither of us had ever expected to become friendly. I lowered my head, grinning at the situation: What we both knew was that things had changed. What we didn't know was how to admit that to each other. It was a case of hidden hearts. A case of private feelings.
As I stood there a bit longer, I began to deliberately make little noises — clearing my throat, scraping my fingers against the door, letting her know that I was still in the room. I stared at her motionless figure, waiting to see if she would open her eyes...waiting to see if she was ready to.
After a while I realized that she wasn't.
And after a while I realized that it was okay.
Our situation wasn't likely to change today, and it wasn't likely to change tomorrow. But as I threw her one more look and left the room, I realized that it might change eventually. Maybe someday, when we were both ready.
Maybe someday soon.
