The Twelve Days of Dash & Lily(34)
“I’d hardly call you that.”
“That’s what I feel like! I used to feel sorry for girls who went all stupid when they got boyfriends. Now I’ve become one of those girls! One who needs him to tell her he loves her because she’s so neurotic she has to hear it from him to feel, like, validated in her feelings for him. I hate that!” I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I’d never confided in my mom like this before. Those drunk Santas must have infected me with their lack of restraint. Mom laughed. “There’s nothing funny about this,” I reminded her.
“I know,” she said, down-turning her lips to a neutral, serious position. “It’s just that you’re reminding me of when I was first going out with your dad, and starting to have deep feelings for him. We’d been dating for a few months, and then out of nowhere, I turned brutally cold and broke up with him. I didn’t want to let him in that close.”
“And your family is a lot of baggage to bring to somebody,” I said. My other fear with Dash: My family. His family.
“There’s that,” Mom allowed. “It took a while before I invited him to Christmas, and to meet aunts and uncles and cousin after cousin. He still hasn’t recovered from the shock of the sheer numbers of us.”
“Dash’s family is toxic.”
“That doesn’t mean he is.”
“I know. But it’s unsettling to see how mean his parents are to each other. What if he turns out like his dad?”
“As much as I haven’t been ready for you to have a boyfriend, I’m giving this one to Dash. He’s nothing like his dad. Except for the color of his eyes.”
“But Dash’s eyes are so beautiful!” I was ready to sob again.
“What do you really want from me, Lily? For me to talk you into or out of this relationship?”
“I want Dash to know what to say and what to do! I want him to know to take me to see Corgi & Bess and make it special. I want him to not just bring me a Christmas tree but stay awhile and stop time to be just with me.” It was like I wasn’t even talking to Mom anymore. I ranted, “Don’t just show me you adore me. Tell me you love me, or break up with me and put me out of this misery of wanting to give my whole heart to you and you just being like, ‘Oh, what a cute Lily heart you are so na?vely holding out to me. You don’t mind if I throw it on the ground and stomp all over it, do you?’?”
Mom paused, and I think she was trying to suppress a laugh, but she at least made a face like she was waiting so she could formulate a thoughtful response. Finally, she said, “First of all, it’s not fair to expect Dash to be psychic about what you really want from him. Second, and this is just a broader piece of advice for you about anyone you might date, but any male who automatically knows how to tick off all the items on your female wish-fulfillment list is too good to be true. It’s not natural to their species, and you should find it highly suspicious if he does. Third, if you feel so strongly about him, I think it’s your responsibility to be honest with him about it and not wait for him to tell you something he has no idea you’re waiting to hear.”
“But what if Dash doesn’t feel the same way?”
“That’s a risk you have to take. This is one of those moments when you get to decide who you want to be. It’s like an awkward, uncomfortable growth spurt, but one that ultimately moves you in a definitive direction. Are you going to be someone who takes charge of her feelings and her actions, even if the outcome might hurt, or someone who lets herself be unhappy simply because she won’t ask for what she wants?”
“They both sound like sucky options.”
Mom no longer looked like she was trying not to laugh. She said, very seriously, “I see now the danger in letting you be so overprotected. It taught you to overprotect your heart.”
“I’m scared.”
“You should be. There’s nothing more frightening than true intimacy.”
“MOM!” I couldn’t be more embarrassed. “That’s not what I meant!”
“That’s not what I meant, either. I’m talking about emotional intimacy, not physical. Acknowledging how you really feel, who you really are. Opening up your soul to another person. There’s nothing scarier. And I’ve been to Woodbury Common outlet mall on Black Friday. I know from scary.”
I had nothing to say while I absorbed what she’d said. To my silence, Mom added, “But since you brought it up—”
“No, we haven’t!” I said, squirming. “I mean, he doesn’t even, like, protest about your rule that my bedroom door has to be open if we’re in there alone together.”
“That’s your dad’s rule, not mine, but I can’t say I blame Dash. I don’t think I’d want to fool around with you in your bedroom, either, if I knew you had a dozen family members outside the door waiting to strangle him if he tried anything beyond holding your hand.”
I honestly wanted to convulse with grossness hearing my mother say the words “fool around” in the context of Dash and me, but I also liked the other part of what she was suggesting. “So Dash can be in my bedroom with the door closed?”
“If he dares. Sure. I overrule Dad on this one. Dash is a good guy, and if you’re ready to have this conversation about intimacy with me, then I trust you to make the best decision when the time is right for both of you, and to handle it responsibly. But I’m guessing there’re other places Dash would rather be alone with you. I wouldn’t take his indifference to the open door to mean his lack of desire for you.”