When Grace makes it onto a very exclusive list that Daniel officially lost the chance to be on

It’s two hours later that tears finally start to leak out. I’m lying in bed desperately trying to sleep because I work at 8 a.m. tomorrow, but the second Grace left the room, the second I was alone, the tears came. Uninvited and inconvenient, so pretty much normal.

I hear the bathroom sink shut off and realize Grace is about to come back into our room. I’m sincerely excited and content to be rooming with her again, but I got used to having a lot of alone time (to cry) when she didn’t live here. Plus I know she’s tired; I don’t want to bother her..

I grab my roll of toilet paper from its (lately) constant place next to my bed and swing my legs out of bed. Everything is all blurry with tears. I open our door and hesitate. The walls in this apartment are thin, but you can weirdly hear nothing that goes on in the kitchen. So I head to our kitchen table, plunking the toilet paper down and pulling out a chair.

The tears resume and I let them. I put my head in my hands and curl my hands into fists and for the billionth time in weeks, I cry.

I’m eight wadded up tissues in when-

“Jess?”

Crap.

I don’t look up. I hear her shuffle across the kitchen to me, feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Jess, what is it?”

Pfft what is it. Even if I was capable of forming words right now, I wouldn’t answer that.

“Did he send another message?”

I shake my head. No, he hasn’t and that’s the problem. Not that I’d expect him to after the… rash text I sent and the harsher reply when he questioned further. To be fair, he shut down on me. What was I supposed to do?

Not that. But I did. I feel terrible about it and I feel terrible for feeling relieved about it.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I shake my head again. I really really don’t.

I take a shuddery breath and squeeze out the words “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bother you with this.”

She scoffs. “You’re not bothering me. Besides, I’m not the one who has to get up early tomorrow.”

The tears swell up again and I fail at choking down a sob.

“I’m stressed about crying. I should be asleep and I’m just upset and I can’t calm down.”

Her hand leaves my shoulder. I haven’t looked up the entire time she’s been in the kitchen and I don’t start now. But I hear the creak of the cabinet and the clank of dishes…the sink running.. then the microwave. I sneak a glance and she’s pulling out my tea from the cupboard.

Tea. She’s making me tea.

More tears. I’m crying in my kitchen at 1 am over a boy who doesn’t love all of me and has purposefully hurt me countless times and my best friend is patting my shoulder and making me tea.

God I’m a mess.

Grace sits by me for the minute and a half it takes to warm up the water, with her arm wrapped around me. I lean my head on her shoulder and continue to cry. She leaves my side when the microwave beeps and returns with a steaming mug. Instead of sitting down though, she hands me my tea, takes me by the elbow and leads me to the couch, turning last minute to grab my toilet paper for me.

I sit down and she balances the toilet paper on the arm of the couch, tucks the blanket around my feet, and reaches for her computer. Then she nestles in next to me and pulls up Netflix.

Five more tissues, two Friends episodes, and one cup of tea later, I’m done crying for the moment. Grace waits for me to throw out my tissues and tea bags and then we go to bed.

She gets to be added to the very small list of people who have seen me full out cry. My sisters and my parents have all seen it at some point or another. Until sophomore year though, it was really just family.

Ian was the first person outside my family who saw me cry. It was the Monday after refusing to go to church for the first time and I’d skipped seminary and I was late to school and I hadn’t spoken with my mom once and just..

I called him. He came. I ditched first block and spent it sobbing in his arms. I didn’t hold back. I just cried. And he just stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head and was there.

I couldn’t contain a couple tears around Jacob, Tim, maybe Jade. But nothing like Ian before, and nothing like Grace now.

Nothing like you eventually.

I’m not saying that it’s my heart’s deepest desire to sob in your arms. I want to be deliriously happy with you. But I look forward to that kind of intimacy. I look forward to the constancy, to being both happy and sad with you, to experiencing life by your side.

It’s time to wrap this up before I get even cheesier than this.

But please the steady arms to hold me when I cry and know that I love you.