29: Insecurities

Jeremiah—

As I get the last of the dishes dried and put away, Shyba dries his hands. I hold up my hand, grinning. “Nice! We got that done in no time!”

He stares at my hand dumbfounded, so I give a friendly little wave. After a second he hesitantly reaches up giving me a quick high five. Well, it’s progress at least.

I hear footsteps and look over to see Mama and Nicky entering, her holding a small box. She comes over and gives Shyba a smile. “Here, this is for you,” she says, handing it to him. “I forgot to give it to you yesterday during our meeting.”

“Eh? B-but…” he studders, staring at the box.

“It’s okay. This is more of a necessity anyway, so we can all keep in contact,” she says.

He opens the box, revealing the smartphone we had picked out for him. His head snaps up to look at her with bewilderment. “I will pay for it. I-I can give you the allowance from before!”

She shakes her head. “Don’t even think about it. Like I said, this is more of a sense of security for us so we can all have a way to communicate with you when you’re here alone or in town since you are starting to get out more,” she says.

“I added all our numbers and got it updated and everything for you,” Nicky says. “It’s fully charged and ready to go.”

He takes it out, setting the box on the table. “It is… These take a lot of money a-and I only need for calling.”

I chuckle. “Just say ‘thank you’ bro. She ain’t gonna give in.”

For a second, he stares at it before looking up at her. “Thank you.”

She smiles. “You’re welcome. You’re going into town with Kiara in a bit, right? She can show you how to do everything.”

He nods and then right on cue I hear her footsteps descend the stairs. “Oh, cool! You already got your phone!” she says smiling. “Ready to head out?”

“Ah, I will put the box in my room,” he says and hurries up the stairs with it.

I start mine and Mama’s usual post-breakfast pot of coffee and as it is brewing, we all wave Shyba and Kiara out the door. I notice Mama watching out the window as they leave the driveway and even once they are out of view she remains there.

“Mama?” I ask, going over. She looks up at me with tears in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Nicky asks.

“I-I just… don’t know what I’m doing,” she mutters.

My mind is sent reeling. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean, how do I know that what I’m doing makes any difference? How do I know I’m actually helping him? I studied, b-but I’m not actually a therapist or anything,” she says, wringing her hands. “What do I do if he needs more help than I can give him? What if he needs medicine and I can’t get it for him? What if I end up doing more harm than good due to my inexperience? We can’t trust anyone else not to send him back into the hell he just got out of! I… I feel like I’m not doing enough… but I also can’t do more than what I am doing, so how do I help him?”

She stares up at me, tears dripping down her face as if she’s drowning. How did I not notice she was feeling so inadequate? Maybe Nicky and I shouldn’t have left her to do the majority of this like we thought. He and I exchange a glance and I can tell he is thinking the same thing.

“Well…” I begin, “for starters, his kind of trauma isn’t something most people are equipped to handle. And you’re right, we can’t trust anyone else to help him. But I think you’re doing a lot better than you think. Having someone to just talk to seems to be helping him a lot. I mean, earlier he finally gave me a high five. I don’t think he expects you to heal him or expects anything from you for that matter.”

I go to pour her a cup of coffee. “Besides, you think he would even swallow a pill? You’ve seen how he acts around stuff like that. And I doubt he would even trust anyone else to talk about this stuff. I mean, it took Nick and me ages to get him to talk to you. And we only found out on accident and forced him to tell the truth. If we hadn’t, we probably would still be in the dark.”

As I set her coffee on the table she sits, letting out a sigh. “You’re right. I guess I was overthinking. I just… want to see him happy,” she says and takes a sip. “So, Kiara is the only one who doesn’t know.”

I sit down beside her with my mug. “Seems so. And we should probably leave it up to him to say anything to her. It’s his secret to tell.”

She nods. “I’m just happy they get along well. They both have had such a difficult time when it comes to friends and socializing,” she mutters, staring into her coffee.

Nicky sits, cracking open a soda. “Only a matter of time before one of them says they have a crush on the other.”

I choke on my coffee.

“So, I wasn’t the only one who noticed that,” Mama says.

As I cough, I look between the two of them. “Noticed what?”

They look at me, before looking at each other with a smug grin. As I glower, they laugh.

“I ain’t buying it,” I grumble. “For one Kiara is… Well, Kiara. And two, Shyba is, uh, Shyba. And I highly doubt Shyba really even cares about that stuff to begin with. At least not for quite a while.”

Nicky grins. “Okay. Twenty bucks says one of them will confess they have a crush on the other,” he says, holding out his hand.

I grab it, shaking once. “Bet.”

As he leans back in his chair he smirks. “I like my bills fresh and crispy.”

I roll my eyes. “There’s no way it would happen. I mean yeah, Kiara got him to laugh when me and Nick have been trying to for weeks, but that doesn’t mean anything,” I grumble and take a swig of my coffee. “And just because he gravitates toward her more doesn’t mean he likes her like that either. Or the fact that he makes eye contact with her more. Or… that Kiara has started to act more like herself again and wants to go do stuff with him when we could hardly get her out of the house.”

Everything is silent for a long moment as I process everything going on. I clear my throat. “I see your point.”

Nicky chuckles and Mama lets out a sigh before saying, “We’re not saying it means that they will develop feelings… just that we won’t be surprised if it does happen. But I don’t see it happening anytime soon if it does.”

She sighs and stands. “I’m going to take some ‘me’ time today, so let them know to have supper without me. Tell Shyba I’m sick. He will blame himself if he finds out.”

I nod. “Okay, let us know if you need anything. We’ll watch the girls.”

She gives us a thankful smile before heading off to her room to most likely rewatch an old sitcom and come out occasionally for a snack. Nicky and I look at each other with a “what do we do now?” look.

Kiara—

We make our way through the park as I lead us to a shaded picnic table that is a bit more secluded, enveloped by flowers of different colors and shapes. It is one of my favorite spots to go if the gazebo is already occupied, which ended up being the case today. With this being away from the main paths though, I am sure Shyba will feel a little more relaxed.

I watch him glance around as I get out my books and notepad. “Oh, before I forget, let’s take a couple photos for our contact icons!” I say, pulling out my phone.

“Okay,” he mutters, seeming unsure.

He didn’t seem to know what everything was when he was fiddling with his phone in the car, so I gave him a basic rundown. He mentioned he never had a smartphone before, which I find to be odd since he is from a technologically advanced place, but I’m afraid to ask about it.

I turn my camera on, showing him what to do. “Here, I’ll go first so you can see how to add it to my info on your phone,” I say and hold it up, snapping a quick photo of him as he sits there. “Oh nice. The background with the flowers is cool.”

He silently watches as I make it his icon, explaining what buttons to click. Then I look around. “Okay, I’ll stand over here and you can take my picture,” I say and trot over to the flower bush, kneeling in front. I fix my hair and turn to smile at him.

As he kneels before me, he silently taps on the screen. “It is good?” he asks.

I go over and look. “It is! You’re a natural. Oh! We should take one together! I’ll show you how.”

He doesn’t say anything, and I raise my phone up to get us both in frame. With a smile I snap the photo then quickly look it over. “What do you think? We take a great picture, don’t we?”

“Ah… mm,” he mutters, though I’m not sure if he is just saying that to satisfy me or not since I don’t think he even looked at it.

“This would be a cool picture to post on my feed,” I say as I open the app. “I’ll caption it, ‘studying in the park’. Or is that too bland?”

“What is ‘feed’?” he asks.

“Oh, I’m talking about my Picsgram account. I like to post pictures on it sometimes,” I tell him as I try to think of a better caption.

“Online?”

“Yeah, you can find all kinds of cool pictu—”

“Matte!”

I jump a bit and look over. Even though I can’t see his eyes for his sunglasses, I can see the tension in his body. He sits back, seeming surprised at himself and withdraws, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Ah… I-I do not want to be online,” he says.

“Oh, okay,” I mutter, closing the app as my chest tightens. I screwed up. “I’m sorry. I should have asked first.”

He suddenly becomes rigid again and leans forward. “Did you put any of me online before?”

I wave my hands. “No, I haven’t. I promise,” I tell him. “You can look if you need to.”

As he lets out a breath he seems to melt back to his original position. “It is okay. I believe you.”

For a second, we are both silent like neither of us knows what to say. “Um,” I start, “ready to help me study?”

He nods once and we go back to the table. As we sit, he still seems rigid, but I’m not sure what to do to help him relax again. His head is low as he sits on the opposite side of the table from me.

 “You… do not ask why?” he mutters.

I pause for a second. “Oh… Uh, I figured you would say if you wanted me to know… and I don’t know if it’s really my place to ask,” I mutter. “It’s your business. People have all kinds of reasons for not wanting their photos online.”

For a long moment everything is silent, and I can’t stop this nagging in the back of my head. I’ve known he’s running from something, someone. Even if I don’t know the details, the clues are all there and I nearly made a fatal error that could have put him in jeopardy.

I pull out the little bag of lollipops I have accumulated and dump it out on the table. “You can have one if you like,” I mutter and pick one up at random. “I like having something to chew on when I’m trying to concentrate.” I then notice the chewed-up end of my pencil and feel my cheeks flush. “If you can’t already tell hehe…”

Ugh, can I get any more embarrassing? I keep doing stupid stuff! I don’t want to run him off like everyone else. Why can’t I just be normal?

He silently takes one. For a while all that can be heard is the occasional bird chirping and me reading through the material and practicing pronunciations. He occasionally chimes in with some guidance. Though I notice he just seems to sit there waiting until he is needed, and I can’t help but to think back on what Mama had said about him just waiting to be ordered around. My stomach tightens and I get to the point where I can’t concentrate.

I look up and for a moment just watch him, unsure what to do or say. He notices me and looks up, straightening his back a bit. “What do you need?” he asks.

His question makes me want to cry. “What do you need?” I ask before I can stop myself.

I can almost see his mind short-circuit. “Ah… What?”

“Well, you’re just sitting there doing nothing until I say something. Is there anything you want to do?” I ask.

He is silent for a long moment, like he can’t come up with an answer. “I do not know,” he murmurs, looking down. “It does not matter. I will help you.”

His words make me want to strangle someone, if only I knew who. “It matters to me.”

He stares at me as if I just said the craziest thing he ever heard.

“There isn’t anything you’re curious about maybe?” I ask. He just sits there, staring at the tabletop. I purse my lips and think for a moment.

My phone buzzes and I look to see a message from Jeremiah. “Mamas taking a mental health day so she won’t be having supper with us. tell Shyba she is sick. don’t want him worrying.”

I get a weird feeling in my gut. Whatever they must have been talking about recently really took a toll on her. If that’s the case, just what kind of life had he been living up till now?

“There is one thing,” he murmurs softly. I look up, noticing him hunched over as he tries to force out the words. “Ah… My jacket was ripped from helping in the barn this morning and Jeremiah said I should ask you to fix it.”

“Oh, yeah I can totally do that,” I say. Why does he seem so embarrassed to ask? “I actually have a sewing kit in my bag for stuff like this.”

As I start rummaging through my bag, he waves his hands. “N-no I… I want to learn. Will you teach me?”

I pause and glance at him as he looks at me. A sense of pride and excitement wells up within me. “Of course. I’d be happy to teach you,” I tell him, unable to wipe the smile from my face. “Why don’t I go ahead and teach you now?”

He nods and I go around to sit by him, pulling out my sewing kit. He glances around before shrugging off his jacket and showing me the tear on his sleeve. I do my best not to look at the scar on his arm as I know how self-conscious he is about it. For the next several minutes I show him how to measure the string, tie it, and make the stitches before closing it off.

“You did pretty good for your first time,” I say and nod. “Good job.”

I notice his cheeks flush as he silently stares at his work, running his fingers along the suture. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” I say and giggle. “I’m happy you asked. You’re actually the first person to ask me to teach this.”

“I understand why you like this… A little, I think.”

I glance down. “Yeah, I started sewing several years ago,” I tell him. “I thought if I could make cute clothes like the popular girls in my class would wear then I would stop getting picked on so much. At first, I would get frustrated a lot and say I was going to quit. But then I’d always pick it back up because I liked the result.”

Shrugging, I add, “Didn’t help my situation any. But it ended up being my outlet.”

He sits there for a moment before looking up at me. “Can I see more?”

For a second, I am stunned and my heart pounds. “Y-yeah.”

There on his face is a small, small smile. “I did not meet someone that makes clothes before. It is ah… How to say? Ahh… I-it is cool.”

Before I realize it, my eyes are wet and his brows arch. I wave my hands. “I-it’s okay, I just… I used to get made fun of for it so much and now here you are asking to see my work. It makes me really happy.”

I sniff. “I sometimes think it would be cool to get into fashion design and make stuff like this for a living. But… ever since my dad died, I’ve been stuck,” I mutter as I stare at the table without seeing it. “I can’t help but think that the older I get, the more I leave him behind. The more into my work I get… the more I don’t think about him… so then I feel like I don’t deserve to go on and do the things I want to because he doesn’t get to see me achieve my dreams or anything.”

The words spill out of me, “A-and he really loved to see the things I would make. I would hold a fashion show for him and everything. But after he… I-I stopped sewing for a long time, forgot how to do certain things and had to relearn. I felt like I let him down. I should have been stronger but…”

I sigh. I feel like a loser. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to go off on a rant or anything.”

He pulls his jacket back on and clasps his hands together. “Reba tells me ‘you are not weak for only being able to survive’. You are alive now because you survived, which is good,” he says. “I am happy because you are my friend and today you teach me to fix the hole in my jacket.”

For a moment I stare at him, my heart feeling full. “I… guess that’s true,” I mutter and smile. “Thank you.”

He nods, but I can’t help feeling a little heartbroken by his words. What did he have to survive from?