Love Rewards The Brave by Anya Monroe Page B

open,
    to
    let
    her
    in.
     
     

101.
     
    She sits
    next to me on the bathroom tile.
    Silent, just like Ms. Francine.
    It’s like they’re in on a silent operation tactic
    and I don’t want to be the first one to fold.
    So I hold back.
     
    “Louisa, do you want to talk about why you’re crying in a stranger’s bathroom on Christmas Eve?”
     
    Do I really have to do this?
     
    “Not really, Margot.”
     
    I keep my head in my hands
    not wanting to let her understand
    me.
     
    “Okay, look I get it, Louisa. I don’t need you to talk to me. But this is the second time in as many weeks I’ve found you huddled, alone, crying. That’s not a good sign. That’s like, a call for help. I don’t know everything that you’re going through, my sister knows way more than I do –– and not just because she’s your foster parent –– because she’s been through way more shit than me. But I feel like I get you, Louisa, and I care about you.”
     
    That panic-attack
    feeling is fleeing, fast.
    I am So. Tired. Of. Trying.
     
    “Let’s talk about something else, how’s Jess? Do you guys have any plans for break?”
    I give her nothing.
    I can’t
    because I like Margot,
    I don’t want to lose her.
    If she knew me
    really, really knew me
    she wouldn’t stay.
     
    I wouldn’t blame her.
     
    “Did you ask for any Christmas gifts?"
     
    I feel myself shutting
    down.
     
    “Um. Okay,” she tried again. “How’s the 6-Spot going? It’s been so busy I’ve barely been able to check in with you.”
     
    I’m being difficult and I know it,
    but I don’t want to own it
    because then I’d have to
    change.
    I’d have to be willing to be
    seen.
    And I’m not ready to
    be that sort of
    girl.
    The sort of brave.
     
    “You know Toby? I guess he has a new boyfriend, they are going to see The Nutcracker tonight.”
     
    That gets my attention.
     
    “Really?”
     
    I bite my lip,
    not wanting to admit
    that I’m a bit
    jealous.
     
    “I know, right? He’s got to be the most adorable guy ever, those eyes alone, right? But he isn’t up for grabs.”
     
    I laughs and
    she does too.
    Shit.
    She wins.
     
    “Thanks,” I say.
     
    “For what?”
     
    “For, you know, saying those things to me. It’s just, it freaks me out. You know, the being cared about part.”
     
    I look away
    eyes stinging
    heart clinging
    to the good parts and the good feelings
    that are flinging
    around inside.
     
    “I get it, Louisa. The being cared about part is scarier than most things. But you can be brave.”
     
    And I don’t think I ever wanted
    to believe anything as much
    as those four words.
    You.
    Can.
    Be.
    Brave.
     
    Margot
    speaks the truth
    I want so badly
    to believe.

102.
     
    I walk downstairs on Christmas morning
    knowing that Ms. Francine was awake
    from the banging in the kitchen and
    the smell of coffee cooking in the pot
    the music playing
    yuletide carols
    and whatever else sort of frankincense and myrrh
    happens here on Christmas.
     
    “You’re up!” Ms. F says.
     
    I come into the living room and smile
    even though I promised myself
    I wouldn’t.
    But how could I
    not?
    There’s a tree full of presents
    and I knew it was just the two of us.
    I’ve never seen that kind of loot.
    At least a dozen presents
    some for me some for her
    it was all I could do not to stare.
     
    “Merry Christmas, Louisa!”
     
    She gives me a hug
    and I return it
    sheepishly.
    I’m like a kid in one of those movies
    they play on Christmas day over and over.
    Where the kid gets a million and
    one boxes
    and they are all better than the last.
     
    “Do you want some breakfast first?”
     
    I do.
    After my bathroom “episode”
    I tried my best to be in “play nice” mode
    for Margot and Ms. Francine.
    It mostly just meant me sitting with
    the little kids
    helping them put together their
    brand-new presents because it was too much
    to be present.
     
    The kids started driving me nuts
    and that happens so rarely
    to be