*excerpt from my novel-in-progress, The Lonely People
“I don’t have the energy for her,” said Sarah with a flip of her thick brown hair as she and Manfred walked a local, heavily-wooded trail on a mild February afternoon. The sun was high above them, just discernible through the canopy of pines. They both wore heavy sweaters and boots, their dogs at their sides.
She was speaking about her cousin, Shawna, with whom she often butt heads. It was a relationship she had decided was best lived out at a distance. Manfred had always liked Shawna—her pensive blue eyes, shyness and soft-spoken way of saying only what was necessary were comforting to him. To Sarah, however, Shawna’s mannerisms seemed to be a constant annoyance—as if something had been planted in childhood that was yet to be reaped.
“What has she asked you to do?” Manfred asked, his tone even.
Sarah shook her head. “It’s not like that,” she began. “She emailed me, reminding me about a text exchange we’d had a few weeks ago. She wanted me to know how it affected her.”
“Okay,” Manfred said, encouraging her to continue.
“Basically, she told me she’d felt dismissed. And I’m like, ‘So?'” she said, getting animated now. “She and I had been talking about our grandmother, and at a certain point, I didn’t like the questions she was asking, so I stopped texting her.”
Manfred paused before he replied. This was something he’d learned to do with Sarah. His default was to fix things so she didn’t have to feel badly. He hated seeing her struggle and yet, he’d lately realized it wasn’t his job to prevent her from ever feeling hurt. “Okay, wait. Are you just wanting to vent right now? Or do you want my honest feedback?”
“Feedback?” she said, eyes wide with humour, holding her mouth tight.
“So that’s how the exchange ended? You stopped replying?”
Sarah stopped. “I didn’t owe her anything!” she said. “Like, I get that she was concerned, but it started to feel like she was questioning how I was handling things. And it was the last thing I needed.”
“Right,” he replied. “I get that. But you didn’t tell her that.”
“Sometimes silence is an answer,” she said, turning forward and leading them all up a steep hill.
“Absolutely,” he agreed. “And in this case, your answer made your cousin feel dismissed.”
Sarah shrugged. “That’s not my problem. I don’t owe her a conversation whenever she wants one. I am allowed to have boundaries. It’s like she only wants to take out her shit on me.”
This was new, he thought. Now she was reading Shawna’s mind? “How is she doing that?” asked Manfred finally.
“Because anytime she doesn’t like how I treat her, she’s got something to say. Like, not everything needs to be a big deal. And I’m sorry, but I’m not responsible for her insecurities.”
Manfred pulled his dog gently away from a patch of thorny twigs and quickened his pace to catch up with Sarah. “Of course, you’re not. I’m just not sure that she’s asking you to be. It sounds more like she wants clear communication between you two. And that’s healthier than what you’re suggesting.”
Sarah let out a noise he took to mean she vaguely agreed. She was being a bit unreasonable, and she knew it. He continued. “Can I ask you something?”
She turned back to him, and, avoiding eye contact, she nodded.
“Is it possible you avoid talking to your cousin because she tends to hit a nerve?”
Sarah rolled her eyes as if he’d said the most obvious thing in the world.
“Right, okay,” he said. “Listen, you’re right. You don’t owe her a conversation whenever she wants one, but I’ll be honest with you, Sarah. It sounds like she’s asking for the bare minimum here. It sounds like she’s asking for clarity and common human decency.”
“You haven’t read what she posts about me on Instagram,” she said softly. “It’s all this thinly-veiled crap… memes, reels. I know she’s talking about me.”
He scratched his head, considering her words. “But if she’s as insecure as you say she is, why would it all be directed at you? How can you know it’s not something that pervades her life?”
“She’s always been jealous of me,” Sarah said. “Ever since we were little. Trust me.”
They stopped at a bridge and took long sips from their water bottles. “Maybe you’re right. And if you’re reading her social media posts, a part of you still cares what she thinks. So, where does that leave you two?”
She narrowed her brow in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’ve got a decision to make. If you don’t want to speak to her again…”
Sarah waved a hand dismissively. “I never said that.”
“Okay, that’s good. Then it would be best if you simply decided how vulnerable you’re willing to be with her. And if you’re not willing to be vulnerable, offer gentle honesty. She’s not disposable, Sarah. She’s a human being. And just because you disagree with her doesn’t mean you can’t tell her that respectfully.”
“She triggers me!” she said, heated now. “And I don’t have the energy to engage with people who trigger me.”
Manfred swallowed hard, feeling the truth of her words. “Got it,” he offered quietly. “This is good information, right?”
She wiped at her eyes and laughed sardonically. “I regret bringing this up.”
“Okay,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “We can drop it.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s alright. I just… you’re making me see it’s not simply her being annoying. I clearly have work to do. And I don’t particularly want to do that.”
Manfred stepped closer to her and gently kissed her forehead.
“Ugh,” she said. “Why can’t I leave it? Why can’t it just be all her projecting onto me?”
He smiled. “I hear you. But that’s not how relationships work—even the ones where you don’t see the person often,” he said. “But you knew that already.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, a note of exhaustion in her voice. “Too little too late.”
Manfred laughed. “Listen, you said you don’t have the energy for her at the outset. So, start there. Let her know that you’ve listened to what she has said and are committed to doing something about it, but it will require you to take time and space. And you can end by saying you will let her know when you’re ready to communicate again. Clarity is a love language. And my guess is it’s your cousin’s love language.”
Sarah stopped. “Damn,” she said, observing him with love and maybe even a little lust in her eyes. “That’s like really mature.”
Again, he had to laugh. “Well, that’s the result of sending some very immature texts and emails in the past and having to take responsibility for that.”
“Got it,” she said. “So basically, I’m benefitting from years of you fucking up.”
“Yes,” he replied. “Yes, you are.”
❤️
