I'm Normally Perfect (re-upload)

Chapter Twenty

'Oh.' I mixed my vegetables and rice. 'And now he's back.'

'He returned two years ago, actually, but had a wife by then.'

'He doesn't now?'

She shook her head, swallowing a mouthful of wine, 'They're separated.'

'Wow. People are complicated.'

'Maybe that's why you choose not to participate.'

I felt my brow furrow, 'I participate.'

Her tone was soft, 'Catherine. Not really. I'm not judging you, many writers are introverts.' She paused before saying, 'You want people to be so detached, to analyse everything they do as you do, but it doesn't make for an utterly scintillating life, does it?'

I took a moment to absorb this, trying not to be hurt. 'Are you saying I'm boring?' She chuckled and I said quietly, 'Don't laugh at me.' I couldn't stand it when people laughed at me.

She reached across the table and took my hand, 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh at you, sweetheart. It was the way you said it, and no, I do not find you to be boring. I'm simply saying that you can't expect everyone else to live up to your standards.'

'Please, I don't live up to my standards. And why would you think I'd be upset if you had lunch with an ex?' I forced myself to let go of her hand.

She said slowly, 'I liked being with him, but not because we have loads in common.'

'Then why?'

She looked at her plate and smiled sheepishly, 'He makes me feel beautiful.'

'But you are beautiful.' Why didn't I make her feel that way?

She shook her head a bit her tone was soft, 'I'm not trying to talk down to you, Catherine, but as you've never experienced it I don't expect you to understand.'

I gently lay my fork down, appetite gone, 'Explain it to me, then.' I folded my hands in my lap and tried to meet her eyes.

She seemed to grow uncomfortable, though I wasn't trying to make her feel that way, I simply wanted to understand where she was coming from so she wouldn't feel as though she had to keep anything from me in future. She took a deep breath, 'Sometimes it's nice to be with someone simply because they like you.'

'Do you like him?'

She nodded, 'Yes.'

'Then you're together because you like one another, it's not as if you can't stand the guy but hang around because he brings you flowers or something.'

'Well...'

'What?' I could tell she still wasn't being completely honest with me.

She began hesitantly, 'When we were...dating, he and I did have all sorts of things in common, shared interests and the like, but in a day-to-day way we didn't work.' I didn't understand that, if you got on with someone you should be able to live with them. She regarded me for a moment as if trying to make her mind up about something. Eventually she said, 'Not all connections are cerebral in nature, you know.'

It took me a bit before I realised what she was saying. I looked away, the colour rising in my cheeks, 'Oh.' I wanted her to be honest with me about her life, and I certainly didn't want her to think I was an utter child, but I'd never had anyone confess to me that the chief component of her relationship was physical.

'I didn't mean to make you embarrassed.'

I shook my head, 'No, you didn't.' She knew I was lying.

As if it would make it easier she added, 'We do care for one another.'

'You don't have to justify your relationship to me. Why do you care what I think?'

'Because I do, care what you think.'

I was flattered but remained shocked. I shook my head, 'You can do whatever you want. I'm not going to think any less of you. You're just my Alex, so whatever you want is...you know, whatever you want. Just so he's nice to you, I don't care.' I had a sip of my wine.

'He is. He's very nice.'

I grunted a "that's good to know" grunt. 'What's his name?'

'Matthew.' Her fork clicked on her plate, 'Would you like to meet him?'

I had another sip of wine. 'If you want me to. It's really up to you.' I wasn't sure if I wanted to meet him or not so thought leaving it up to her was the best course to take. We sat there in silence, I knew I should finish my meal, but couldn't manage it. However immature it may have been, I went to bed early.

When she stopped by my already darkened room on her way back in with the dogs she placed Clem on my bed, sat down beside me and said in that velvety way, 'My feelings for him don't alter one jot what I feel for you, you know.'

I didn't know what to say so went with, 'All right.' After a pause her voice came out of the darkness, 'Don't you believe me?'

'Yes.' I wanted to touch her, hold her hand or something.

'No outside person could alter our friendship.'

'Okey dokey.' It wasn't that I thought someone else would change the way she felt about me, it was that I wanted to be enough. I wanted to be all that she needed. I liked her sitting on the edge of my bed in the dark and wanted her to remain there, but eventually I felt the bed rise as she stood.

In the doorway she said, 'Sleep well. I love you, sweetheart.' I thought I would cry.

'I love you, too.'

I found her proclamation about the certainty of her feelings reassuring, though I couldn't stop thinking about how I wanted to be the sort of person who made her feel beautiful. I suppose saying it to someone isn't enough to make them feel it, as I said it to her often enough. I suppose I didn't have quite what was required, whatever that may be. It made me feel inadequate, that I couldn't be everything to the person who was everything to me. Clem had been wheezing rhythmically for quite some time before I drifted off. Next morning went off as every morning did, neither of us mentioned the previous night's discussion, though on the ride in to school Alex asked me if I slept all right and I only shrugged.