Page 4 of Soft
My last day before leaving for college, I spent nearly the full day there. I alternated between excitement over a new start and sorrow over losing my safe place. Would I find a place like this in my new home? Would there be any comfort once I was away from the people who made me feel like I was always somehow less?
I didn’t have the answers back then.
Sometimes, I worried I still didn’t know.
Having parents who felt you were inadequate and often told you such was rough. I learned from an early age that agreeing with them was easier than fighting back. Folding to their demands kept me from hours of lectures and threats.
Part of me suspected my love of all things soft stemmed from that time in my life. A time when I found solace in simply existing with nature or burrowing into my comforter when the voices were too loud.
It’s no wonder I surrounded myself with anything and everything plush once I settled on a home. Looking around my playroom always brought a smile to my face.
Rough day at the office? Playroom.
Lonely? Playroom.
Everything could be solved with a soft blanket, a stuffie, and the beautiful clouds painted on my walls. At least, that’s what I’d told myself before everything changed.
I was in my office working through client requests. As the only full-time person in my company, I had to keep on top of things or else we’d get backed up. It wasn’t all that hard to manage if I didn’t ignore my work.
Or if I didn’t have to fight my tired eyes.
Rubbing them again did little to help the distorted images on the screen. Everything blurred together before clearing up again. Though it was something that’s happened every once in a while in the past, this time it was holding strong.
Frustrated, I finally stood from my desk and began pacing. Maybe I needed to not look at a computer screen anymore. Could it be that my eyes were simply exhausted from working too much? That was totally a thing that happened.
I mean, what the hell else would it be?
Despite not liking them, I ate my carrots to keep good eye health. I worked out regularly, and I didn’t abuse my body with drugs or alcohol. It had always been important to me to keep a clear head.
After a few minutes of marching around my office, I settled into my chair to see if I could get back on track. There were things to take care of. Things that required my eyes to work properly.
A knock at the door drew my attention. Moseley, one of the part-time interns who came to help me out, stuck his head in the door, grin wide and easy like always.
“Everything ok in here? Cheyenne said she heard what sounded like stomping a few seconds ago.” His voice held a note of curiosity. I had no doubt he wanted to be able to deliver the latest gossip back to his partner-in-chaos.
The crew that helped me out was a rowdy bunch. I liked to think of them as something like little siblings because of how much I took them under my wing. That and they all seemed to enjoy keeping tabs on me as if we were truly related.
I shook my head. “Everything is fine. I didn’t mean to make a bunch of noise. I was just having some trouble with my eyes not wanting to work right. Maybe I need a nap?”
The thought shot through me, lighting up my dopamine registers as I pictured myself at home in my bed cuddled with a bear or two. Maybe three.
Sue me. I liked to be surrounded by my favorite things.
“A nap? I don’t know about that, boss. If you need me to read over some stuff though, I’m happy to help. I’ve wrapped up the list you gave me.”
He stepped into the room then, his excitement growing at the thought of helping me. No surprise there. Moseley might have been nosy, but he was also the first to volunteer when a task needed completion.
“Do you have anything else time sensitive going on? I don’t want to pull you from a project.”
“Nah,” he said, waving his hand around. “I’m caught up, hence why I came to investigate. Let me have a look.”
He practically skipped across the room. When he rounded the desk, I stood and gave him my seat.
The way he wiggled once he sat made me smile. He would make a great agent one day, if he kept at this. His kind heart would make him desirable for a lot of athletes. It had definitely worked for me.
I couldn’t count the number of times people reached out to me because their agent was being an asshole. They’d realize those bullheaded people who were all about the loud, demandingdeals, weren’t always the best choice. Not when someone was queer or a person of color or a woman.
There were different rules for them. Other methods had to be navigated because systemically, they were fighting twice as hard for a seat at the table.
