When Dad and I used to tell each other to try a little tenderness, we meant calm down, be soft, stop having to be right, give a person the benefit of the doubt for a change. We never talked about what it’s like to be on the receiving end of it. How it leaves you the other kind of tender—raw, bruised. In certain cases it might leave you bewildered and stumbling, a person who’s been crouched in the dark, afraid someone will turn on the lights and find you, and then it happens and in some ways it’s not so scary after all and in others, well, holy shit.Last night, after seeing Ravi, I got through my shift by shutting down, because I couldn’t keep feeling what I was feeling and also do my job. Thank God that Mandy and my mom were in their rooms when I got home. I slugged some NyQuil and slept in my clothes. It’s hard to get up and go to school and be me, be Jill MacSweeney, in the same way I was yesterday. I feel exposed, like Ravi has found some unlocked door inside me and now anything can get in.So I compensate.
