Page 113 of Gabriel
She shrugs. “Like, am I abnormal to you?”
“I’m not sure any of us can really be considered normal,” I tell her. “We all have shit and we all handle it in different ways.”
The corners of her mouth curl into the ghost of a smile. “I like you, Cecilia Russo. You’re different from most people.”
“Uh, thanks.”
“It’s a compliment.”
Alright. I’ll take it as one.
“My parents made me see a shrink when I was younger because they thought there was something wrong with me.”
Oh. I don’t really know what to say to that. “I imagine that had to hurt.”
She makes a face. “Not really. I knew where they were coming from. Like I said, my parents love me. It’s just … hard for them. Having a kid they think is different. I’m not what they expected.”
“I don’t get it.” I feel like Adriana is trying to tell me something without coming out and saying it, but I’m having a hard time reading between the lines.
“I like you,” she says again.
Okay. “I like you, too,” I tell her.
“I would like us to be friends.”
I mean, I was sort of hoping for that as well, so that’s good. We’re moving in the right direction.
“Alright. Let’s be friends.” It will take some time, getting to know one another to be real friends, the ride-or-die kind, but I’m game to try if she is.
“Good.” Her smile widens, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Friends are supposed to be honest with one another.” Where is she going with this? “So I think it’s important that I be honest with you.”
Her eyes meet mine, and she holds my gaze, almost like she’s trying to pass along some sort of silent communication.
“Okay?” I brace myself for whatever bomb she’s about to drop, but what she says next isn’t at all what I expected her to say.
“I don’t think like you,” she tells me. “After meeting with a therapist for close to a year, my parents were given a diagnosis.”
“Alright.” Where is she going with this? “Are you dangerous or something?” I mean it as a joke but she answers me seriously.
“No. Not really.”
That’s uh … reassuring. I don’t get the feeling that she’s trying to scare me off, so I’m going to take her at her word. For now, at least.
I’m a firm believer in letting people show you who they are, and thus far, Adriana has been nothing but nice to me and she defended me when she had no reason to. Whatever diagnosis she received as a kid, it doesn’t define her. She’s still good people.
“Like I said, I want us to be friends. Unfortunately, I have a shitty track record at being a good one. It doesn’t come naturally to me. But with you, I’d like to try. If you’re open to that.”
I feel sort of like I’m having a conversation with a female version of Sheldon Cooper from the Big Bang Theory, the way she talks to me so matter of fact and without any real emotion. It feels very similar to the character’s speech patterns and mannerisms in the show.
“I mean, yeah. I’m down.”
“Good.” She picks her burger back up. “That settles it, then.”
I guess it does.
“I might screw up,” she tells me. “Not intentionally, of course, but you know,” she waves a hand through the air, “the whole my brain not working like yours.” Her lips purse in frustration. “Sometimes I slip up. I’m hoping that if I do, you’ll give me a chance to fix it. That you won’t—” she briefly looks away, “cut me off.”
Oh. My stomach drops. Someone’s done that to her before. I can relate. It sucks when your friends turn their backs on you. Whether it’s your fault or not makes no difference. It still hurts.
