It's Okay To Be Vulnerable

“Girl, I will be there in 20 minutes.”

“So I should expect you in an hour?” Melodic laughter filtered from the phone sitting on the vanity while Winter aggressively brushed highlights on her cheekbones. She had made plans today to meet up with her bestie, Zaida, to take care of some pre-vacation shopping.

Winter dramatically groaned at her phone as she tossed her makeup brush on the counter and snatched her phone from the counter. She loved Zaida to pieces, but her pension for the blatantly obvious could be frustrating. But this time, there was no need to crack ‘always late’ jokes; Winter was on time for once.

“I’m serious, Z. I’m walking down the stairs now.” The sounds of her barely-heeled combat boots against the oak-covered stairs echoed with confirmation. “Now I’m grabbing my keys,” Winter narrated, shaking them near the phone. Giving a play-by-play was petty, but Winter didn’t want to be ridiculed for her biggest flaw today.

Zaida scoffed when it clicked. “Okay, okay. I get it. I’ll see you soon. Love you.” Winter mumbled the sentiment to Zaida before hanging up and tossing the phone into her favorite purse. As Winter hurried to the door, she dug through her purse, ensuring she had everything.

“Phone, wallet, chapstick, keys, check,” Winter muttered. Satisfied, she placed her hand on the doorknob. As Winter turned the doorknob, she suddenly heard a muted buzzing noise. Her eyes narrowed in confusion; she took out her phone to pull up the app connected to her Ring video doorbell. A white and black drone was flying away from her front door. Her eyes widened when she saw a familiar red lightning bolt painted on one side; only one person she knew had a drone and his own drone photography business that bore the infamous symbol.

Winter yanked the door open, hopeful to see a lovely and trusting face. Her face fell when all she saw was a package wrapped in brown paper. She picked it up and found only a neatly printed name written on it – Sasha Voznesensky.

Seeing that name filled Winter with sadness and nostalgia. She didn’t even know she was crying until little spots stained the wrapped package. Sasha had been the best person ever she let into her life. He was the first boyfriend that made her feel safe and happy. Winter never felt insecure about her curves or her subtle Algerian accent when she was with him. At the risk of sounding dramatic and cliched, Winter would even say Sasha was the first person who made her understand what love really was.

He was also the first breakup where she truly understood what heartbreak was. Two weeks ago, he told her the dreaded ‘we need to talk’ and subsequentially broke up with her without a real explanation. Winter foolishly had thought it would be like her other breakups - one, maybe two days of half-hearted crying, ice cream and rom-com binging, and figurative storm clouds. By day five, Winter, after a blunt heart-to-heart with Zaida, had to admit to real heartbreak.

It affected everything, including her preparation for her month-long vacation to France. Despite living closer to France when she still lived in her home country, Winter had never made the trip. Winter's meager earnings from her part-time secretary job in Algeria were often snatched away from either of her parents. It took years just for her to squirrel away enough funds to move to the States and survive the five months she was without work.

Winter always wanted to go to France; ecstatic was too small a word to describe how excited she should be. But, now, not even Zaida’s joking suggestion of adding ‘find a new boyfriend’ to the itinerary could get her smiling.

Raising an arm to wipe her tears, Winter bought the package inside and closed the door behind her. She rushed up the stairs, package in hand. Reaching her room, she gingerly put the box on the table and pressed the number two on her speed dial.

Her sisterly best friend picked up after the first ring. “What’s wrong?” Winter mentally palmed herself, realizing her mistake. Of course, Zaida would already figure out something was wrong; they always spoke on FaceTime. She didn’t want to talk to Zaida about the package. Zaida would be hypercritical of it, mainly because it came from the christened, heartbreaking jerk of an ex. Zaida’s words, not Winter’s.

Grabbing makeup wipes to clean her mascara-tear-stained face, Winter responded, her voice cracking ever so slightly. “I’ll be later since I have to touch up my makeup. How about you just meet me at the mall?”

“What did that jerkwad do?” Winter shooked her head at Zaida’s name for Sasha, the only one of her exes Zaida never mentioned by name.

Attempting to avoid mentioning the unexpected drone delivery, Winter tried denial. “What makes you think he did anything? And his name is Sasha.” She may have been devastated, but she was still very much in love with him to think he deserved to be called anything horrible.

“Whatever.” Winter could hear the eye roll in Zaida’s exasperated tone, “and obviously, he made you cry again. Why else would you explain your voice sounding like Trinia’s poorly attempted high note and you needing to touch up your makeup?”

“Who’s Trinia?”

“You need to watch Victorious at some point,” Zaida said sternly, “and stop trying to sidestep my question.”

Winter threw the used wipes in the trash can and picked up a brush. Exhaling deeply, she admitted the truth about the delivery. “I think I’m going to open it.” She always loved Sasha’s gifts; they were so thoughtful and profound. One such gift was a key charm necklace he gave her the first time he admitted he loved her. Sasha had explained he was entrusting Winter with the ‘key to his heart’.

“Don’t,” Zaida requested, “he and his gifts aren’t worth your time anymore. He dumped you with a lame excuse, remember?” She was referring to Sasha’s explanation of ‘it’s not working’ when, at least to Winter, things were going great.

Ignoring the reminder of the lacking conversation before the breakup, Winter argued, “Sasha never sends a gift without reason, Zaida.” Secretly, she was hoping Sasha’s real reason for initiating the breakup was part of the package. Winter knew Sasha struggled with conversating about things that made him vulnerable. It was nothing for such conversations to be written out rather than spoken; it gave Sasha time to choose his words carefully. Plus, he compared it to peeking into his journal; it was another way to prove to Winter how much he trusted her with himself.

Zaida groaned before conceding, “I don’t think you should, but if you are going to, should I assume the pre-vacation shopping trip will be an afternoon thing?”

Depending on the package’s contents, it might be tomorrow, but Winter was not going to tell Zaida that now. “Sure, that sounds great.” Winter finished her touch-up, allowing the room to fill with silence.

“Winter?” Zaida’s concern was evident.

“Yeah?”

“I’m here to be whatever you need afterward. Okay?” Winter smiled softly. Zaida’s dependability balanced out her bluntness, which was part of the reason she was such a great friend.

“I know, Zaida.” Winter went to hang up the phone before pausing. “Zaida. I feel I don’t say it enough, but thank you. For being a great friend. I don’t think I would have survived here without you.” Winter wasn’t exaggerating when she said that.

Five years ago, about six months after moving to North Dakota, Zaida stepped in when a creep harassed Winter at a department store. At Zaida’s insistence, they spent the rest of the time in the department store together. Since then, Zaida has become Winter’s guide in living in the States and Winter’s first genuine friend.

“You would have. If you could get through what you did in Algeria, you could get through anything. I mean that. I’ll talk to you later, Winter.”

“Later, Z.” Winter hung up the phone and drew her attention to Sasha’s package. She tore away the brown paper, revealing an envelope and a homemade puzzle box. Winter scoffed to herself, equal parts out of absolute awe of Sasha’s ingenuity, bewilderment, and attempt to calm down the butterflies fluttering about.

A love for puzzle boxes, amongst other things, cemented a friendship and, later, a romance between Sasha and Winter. They first met at a karaoke party at Zaida’s house three years ago. While everyone enjoyed the awful and, every so often, surprisingly unique versions of popular songs, Sasha sat down with a small puzzle box. At one point, Winter saw a bit of frustration pass over his face when he hit a tricky part. Feeling bold, Winter came over and offered to figure it out, which she did in a couple of minutes. They solved the puzzle box together for the rest of the party.

This box looked far more complicated. Already, Winter saw multiple layers to the chest, meaning several solutions she had to work through. And right now, she didn’t know where to start with it. Winter opened the attached envelope and pulled out a card written in Sasha’s exquisite handwriting.

Winter, this could be the worst or the best gift ever. I have been wracking my brain on how best to explain myself. Words don’t seem enough to make things clear, so I decided on this. Sasha.

It would seem awful not to ask about Winter’s well-being to anyone else. For her, it would have felt like a twisting knife in her back to read, “I hope you are well,” on the card. Winter dwelled on the fact that Sasha always knew her so well, even better than her parents. She missed that comfort; the last two weeks felt too much like withdrawal from an addicting substance. Winter never experimented with drugs or alcohol, but she had seen it too often with her parents.

Shaking her head free from her thoughts, Winter peeked at her phone for the time. It was 9:20 am; she needed to leave her house at 11, at the latest, to make it to the shopping mall on time to meet up with Zaida. She could start on the puzzle box now and finish the rest later. Winter pulled the box closer to the vanity’s edge, cracked her knuckles, and started.

Winter should have known she wouldn’t be able to stop once she got started. She dived into solving puzzle after puzzle, only taking a couple of breaks. One was to shoot an apology text to Zaida for pushing the mall trip to tomorrow, and the other was to grab a quick snack to munch on while she wiped away her makeup. She couldn’t help but reminisce about the dates they only solved puzzle boxes. It didn’t help that all the solutions were similar to many of them.

It was around 8:15 pm when Winter reached the last puzzle, and she was tired. The anticipation kept her awake as she popped open the final latch and opened the layer’s cover, finding only a scrap of paper.

I gave you everything while you gave me nothing

No wonder I felt empty and wanting

Winter leaned back in her chair, meditating on those words and trying to make sense of them. She could see the illustration with the box; Winter had worked on this box most of the day and didn’t find anything except this short poem. But what did it have to do with their relationship? Winter felt like she gave Sasha a lot, or did she?

Going through her memories of them dating, Winter noticed a pattern. Where Sasha told her many things about himself, even at the risk of vulnerability, dejection, or judgment from Winter, she hadn’t been so open. Winter couldn't whisper those three words even when Sasha told her he loved her for the first time. It wasn’t because Winter wouldn’t have meant them; she loved him then and still loved him now.

Winter’s parents weren’t the best examples in anything, especially regarding a healthy relationship. They never demonstrated love for each other or her. Instead, they spent more time arguing, getting high or drunk, or stealing from their daughter. Winter had vowed she would never turn out like them; it was her most significant reason for moving to the States. She felt the farther she was from them, the weaker their influence. Winter hadn’t counted on her subconscious, though. It had absorbed the crappy lessons from her parents about love and had unknowingly been following their habits.

If there was even an inkling of concern over the kind of person Sasha was, this gift pulverized it. Sasha never pressured Winter to talk about her past; he only made sure she knew he would always be there to listen. There wasn’t an accusation or insinuation that the breakup was all her fault. Sasha had done everything right, even taking the time to explain his feelings in his particular way.

Winter decided at that moment that she was going to start doing better. She grabbed a notebook from her shelf and leaped on her bed, spending the following few hours writing.

Winter stood in front of Sasha’s house the next day, nervously bouncing from foot to foot. There wasn’t any trace of makeup on Winter’s face. She wasn’t dolled up, either. Winter sported a hoodie, leggings, sneakers, and a messy bun. In her hands was the notebook Winter wrote last night, a backup for if words failed her. They probably would; Winter would share her deepest, darkest secrets with the man she loved.

Before she lost her nerve, Winter strutted up the sidewalk and on the house deck. As much as she hoped they could get back together, Winter didn’t know what would happen between her and Sasha. That wasn’t the point for her. Winter knew no matter who she ended up spending the rest of her life with; she would have to learn to be vulnerable with them.

After Winter rang the doorbell, she stepped back and smiled authentically. The door swings open to reveal Sasha in a wifebeater and sweatpants. Sasha studied Winter with awe as he had never seen her in such a casual outfit but appreciated how gorgeous he thought she looked.

“Winter,” Sasha uttered in greeting, “hi.”

Winter took a deep breath, wanting to make sure she sounded clear when she opened her mouth. “Hi, Sasha.” Holding the notebook out to Sasha, she said: “Do you have time to talk for a while?”

Sasha opened to the first page and scanned through Winter’s words. Looking up at the woman he loved, he closed the door behind him and motioned to the deck chairs nearby.

“For you, Winter, always.”