Tuesday Italicized

She hangs up the phone with her friend. Her most trusted companion, and she's never heard such conviction nor concern in his voice before. His words are the same ones she's been saying to herself for what seems so long now, but they've never sunken in as they have just now. In fact, she even had to cut the conversation short because they hit home so hard; any more and she would have become emotionally overwhelmed at work. As it is, she is teetering on the edge, in a sort of daze. She somehow makes it through the rest of her work--though it takes her an extra hour and a half to do so--and heads home, ignoring any requests for her company.

Once inside, she heads straight up into the solitude of her room, crawls into the comfort of her flannel pjs, and opens her laptop, intent on telling him everything on her mind. He's always listened and always understood no matter what she's had to say, and she's sure it will be the same this time too. Before she gets to put any words to the page, she hears a whistle for her.

    "Dad? I'm upstairs."
    "Hey, what are you doing?"
    "Honestly? I'm about to write an email."
    "Oh yeah? Okay, well, there's food downstairs."
    "Thanks, but it's okay, I'm not really hungry."
    "Okay."

There is a pause as her father gazes around the room--it's been a while since he's been in there while she was in bed as she is. Despite the seeming end of his conversation, he makes himself a seat on the windowsill. Her eyes watch him; she's sure he can see the solemnity in her eyes; the looming knowledge of lonliness. He understands her want to speak, and so he asks.

    "So, who is he?"

The tension--if it can be called that--bursts, and she begins to tell him the story she's been wanting to share for so long.

    "Dad, I don't know. He's this amazing guy that, and I know this sounds so...cheesy...but I'm crazy about him. I'm crazy about him but logically and rationally, he's not mine and he shouldn't be, but I can't help myself. And dad, you know me. You know I'm the one that goes around breaking hearts--the one that doesn't care for guys or their feelings. I'm the girl that always walks away without getting hurt. I don't trust what guys tell me. I don't believe them. But he's made me crazy. He doesn't have to say much, but I believe him. I have never met someone that I've had such a connection with, dad. He is so amazingly genuine that I know I can trust what he tells me, what he says. I mean, I've only know him for such a short while, and yet I feel like I've known him forever."

Despite her composure, a few tears have escaped her. She hasn't cried in front of her father in a long time. She feels like a little girl again.

    "Well, you know, if he's made such a big commitment already, you don't want to know someone that can break something so easily."
    "I know, I know. If he can do that so easily, what's to say he's not going to turn around and do the same to me? I know, dad. I've thought of it all. I've heard it all. I'll be honest, I haven't asked, because I don't feel like it's my place to do so, but really, it doesn't matter. I can't make you see what I see, so I'm not going to defend or deny how it looks to anyone on the outside, but really, I can only say that I trust him."
    "Some guys know how to say the right thing; make it sound believable."
    "I know. I told you, I'm not going to try to convince you otherwise--it's too hard to if you don't know him."
    "Why do you think you can trust him?"
    "You know, dad, and again, this is going to sound silly, but as soon as he opened the door and I met him for the first time, I KNEW he was a good guy. I took one look at him, and I thought to myself, 'wow, this guy's great! He looks awesome.' Somehow, he reminded me of my best friend and made me think of how awesome he was, that I knew this would be the same. In fact, that very night, I got all upset that he wouldn't be coming out with us and that I wouldn't have a chance to party with him, and that my best friend wasn't going to get to meet him. I was really and truly upset! I couldn't believe it!"
    "What made him so attractive? What he looked like or what he said?"
    "What he said. Since then, I never saw him again for a while, except at that thing a little while ago. But for that time, we just exchanged emails. Emailed back and forth, and dad, you know me, I write a lot. Not only did he read everything I wrote, but he wrote back just as much. And dad, he read my blog. Dad, he read my entire blog, and I have over 500 posts up there!"
    "What do you write about?"
    "Anything and everything. We share stories. What we've done, where we've been. About our families and friends. Things that we'd like to do or try. Everything, dad."

Her father has by now made his way over to sit next to her on her bed. She shows him the sheer amounts of words that they've exchanged, the counts of the posts on her blog. She shows him the few pictures she has, and a few others he's shared with her. There is a quiet pause as her father considers it all; watches his daughter's teary eyes on the screen, running over the pictures...running over his face.

    "Well, I don't see any deception in his face."
    "There isn't any."
    "And it's nice that he reveres his family."
    "He's told me about them. I feel like I already know them."

Her father rises to leave, to let her write her email. She hasn't written a word since he arrived. At the door, he turns back.

    "I'm going to say it because I have to."
    "Yes, dad. I know. Go ahead and say it."
    "Maybe you don't want to know someone that's already committed. You should lay low, and if things happen, they happen."

She looks at him with tearful eyes.

    "That's what I'm trying to do, but it's so hard."

He returns to her bedside and pats her on the head in the way that only a father can, afterward letting his hand run down the side of her cheek to catch the tear on her chin. She smiles at him through her tears. He half-smiles back. Despite the warning, she hears through it--he gives it because he doesn't want her hurt, but he's also a romantic at heart and believes in her resilience. She knows.

"Thanks, dad."