¿sabes? Sólo tres. Pero decir eso, no es una cosa común para una mujer hispana. Tenemos familias grandes, Bailey. Así es nuestra cultura.”
I nodded. “I should probably put my trash on the curb while I’m thinking about it. But I’m also OCD, so it’s not as though I’ll forget come tomorrow evening, right?” I giggled, and Soledad giggled, too.
“Usted entiende! Yo amo a mis hijos, pero a veces necesito respirar. ¿Entiende?”
These were typical conversations with my next-door neighbor. Soledad spoke very little English. I spoke even less Spanish. But some how we had no problem communicating. I assumed she told me about her day. I always told her about mine. We had a mutual understanding, a mutual like for one another, so the words weren’t really important anyway. The longest conversation on record lasted thirty minutes, and I couldn’t tell you one thing she said to me.
I pointed to my door and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Adios, Bailey!” Soledad replied.
I walked insi de and plopped on my couch. Usually when I arrived home from Erica’s house, I was grateful for the quiet, orderly stillness of my living room. But not tonight. Tonight I wish I hadn’t insisted on going home. Tonight I wish I still had Annie crawling all over me, staining my already-beer-sullied shirt with pizza fingers. Tonight I wish I were still tripping over toys on the kitchen floor and chatting with Erica and Noah about their “bad” parenting skills. It didn’t happen often—I trained myself to embrace solitude—but tonight I needed people.
“Hey, Bailey,” Erica said into the phone. “What’s up?”
“Umm, do you think you or Noah could come pick me up? Maybe I could spend the night?” I suggested.
A brief pause.
“I’ll call Noah’s cell. Have him turn around and get you,” Erica said.
“ You sure it’s all right?” I asked.
“Girl, you know it is,” Erica replied.
After we hung up, I packed a small bag, then sat watching the ticking clock, counting the minutes until Noah’s headlights shown in my living room window. I hurried through my leaving-the-house rituals: touch and test all the knobs on the stove in counterclockwise motion; walk twenty-three steps to the guest bathroom to check outlets; turn locks on both doors three times in rapid succession.
I climbed into Noah ’s car and nestled my bag on my lap.
“You checked the outlets?” he asked.
I nodded.
“The stove?”
“Mmhmm,” I replied. “And you’re not supposed to be encouraging me.”
“Hey, I’m just making sure your house doesn’t burn down,” Noah replied, backing out of the driveway.
He was the only one of my friends who didn’t get it. In a therapy session a while ago, Dr. Gordon told me to stay away from Noah—that he wasn’t being a good friend to me because he wasn’t encouraging me to manage my condition. I thought long and hard about the doctor’s words, trying to make sense of his advice when I knew Noah was the best kind of friend—the kind of friend who recognizes the faults in others but loves them anyway.
“Bailey, right?”
She looked up from her desk and blushed. The new guy. The cute guy.
“That’s me,” she replied.
Direct gaze. She wasn’t prepared for it. His green eyes sparkled, danced a little jig, like he knew a secret about her she didn’t remember sharing.
Reece just stood there staring and grinning. He’d walked over with confidence, knew precisely what he was going to say, and then . . .
“Did you need something?” she asked. It was pleasant, not pushy. She didn’t want to push him away. He could stay a while. Would throw her schedule off a tad, but she could deal.
Reece shook his head and cleared his throat. His mind went blank. It was her heart-shaped face. It distracted him. Made him nervous.
“Um . . . yeah. I, uh . . .”
She looked at him expectantly. Suddenly he didn’t seem so confident. She wondered what happened in the course of three
I nodded. “I should probably put my trash on the curb while I’m thinking about it. But I’m also OCD, so it’s not as though I’ll forget come tomorrow evening, right?” I giggled, and Soledad giggled, too.
“Usted entiende! Yo amo a mis hijos, pero a veces necesito respirar. ¿Entiende?”
These were typical conversations with my next-door neighbor. Soledad spoke very little English. I spoke even less Spanish. But some how we had no problem communicating. I assumed she told me about her day. I always told her about mine. We had a mutual understanding, a mutual like for one another, so the words weren’t really important anyway. The longest conversation on record lasted thirty minutes, and I couldn’t tell you one thing she said to me.
I pointed to my door and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Adios, Bailey!” Soledad replied.
I walked insi de and plopped on my couch. Usually when I arrived home from Erica’s house, I was grateful for the quiet, orderly stillness of my living room. But not tonight. Tonight I wish I hadn’t insisted on going home. Tonight I wish I still had Annie crawling all over me, staining my already-beer-sullied shirt with pizza fingers. Tonight I wish I were still tripping over toys on the kitchen floor and chatting with Erica and Noah about their “bad” parenting skills. It didn’t happen often—I trained myself to embrace solitude—but tonight I needed people.
“Hey, Bailey,” Erica said into the phone. “What’s up?”
“Umm, do you think you or Noah could come pick me up? Maybe I could spend the night?” I suggested.
A brief pause.
“I’ll call Noah’s cell. Have him turn around and get you,” Erica said.
“ You sure it’s all right?” I asked.
“Girl, you know it is,” Erica replied.
After we hung up, I packed a small bag, then sat watching the ticking clock, counting the minutes until Noah’s headlights shown in my living room window. I hurried through my leaving-the-house rituals: touch and test all the knobs on the stove in counterclockwise motion; walk twenty-three steps to the guest bathroom to check outlets; turn locks on both doors three times in rapid succession.
I climbed into Noah ’s car and nestled my bag on my lap.
“You checked the outlets?” he asked.
I nodded.
“The stove?”
“Mmhmm,” I replied. “And you’re not supposed to be encouraging me.”
“Hey, I’m just making sure your house doesn’t burn down,” Noah replied, backing out of the driveway.
He was the only one of my friends who didn’t get it. In a therapy session a while ago, Dr. Gordon told me to stay away from Noah—that he wasn’t being a good friend to me because he wasn’t encouraging me to manage my condition. I thought long and hard about the doctor’s words, trying to make sense of his advice when I knew Noah was the best kind of friend—the kind of friend who recognizes the faults in others but loves them anyway.
“Bailey, right?”
She looked up from her desk and blushed. The new guy. The cute guy.
“That’s me,” she replied.
Direct gaze. She wasn’t prepared for it. His green eyes sparkled, danced a little jig, like he knew a secret about her she didn’t remember sharing.
Reece just stood there staring and grinning. He’d walked over with confidence, knew precisely what he was going to say, and then . . .
“Did you need something?” she asked. It was pleasant, not pushy. She didn’t want to push him away. He could stay a while. Would throw her schedule off a tad, but she could deal.
Reece shook his head and cleared his throat. His mind went blank. It was her heart-shaped face. It distracted him. Made him nervous.
“Um . . . yeah. I, uh . . .”
She looked at him expectantly. Suddenly he didn’t seem so confident. She wondered what happened in the course of three
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