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Most people didn’t listen when Chrissy told them she didn’t want to be touched. She almost never bothered protesting against her mother anymore, it just didn’t do any good, but sometimes the prodding or the styling or measuring just was too much and it would slip out - each time shot down and told to be quiet. Chrissy remembers night after night of getting her hair brushed as a child. One hundred brushes before bed as she sat at her vanity, slowly growing taller and waiting for the day her mother would allow Chrissy to brush her own hair. Pulled taut and tugging as her mother forbade her from fidgeting. Chrissy would stare at her little porcelain angel figurine as she tried not to flinch, not to close her eyes and wince against each stroke.
Chrissy thinks that's when it started. When she was little. Hair tugs and pins from sewing clothes and wanting a hug but never getting one. There were no kisses for skinned knees in the Cunningham household, just being reprimanded for crying and hydrogen peroxide stinging.
Her previous boyfriends didn't help the matter, not listening when she had to shrug off an arm or dodge a hand hold, never mind fights when Chrissy got bold enough to put her foot down and refused to fool around. She'd thought dating would help. Sometimes all she wanted was to be held, but it always seemed to come with hands up her skirt and couldn't she just get a hug sometimes without it leading straight to sex?
So after 18 years of no one listening it didn’t really register the first time she shrugged Eddie off and he’d apologized, and moved his arm. There'd been relief, a thankful sigh, but she didn't really think about it. Because no one ever listened. It was a fluke. Then Chrissy realized two days later that Eddie hadn’t touched her since her brush off. And Eddie liked to touch her. She liked it when Eddie touched her! But he hadn’t done it in two days, not since she turned away his arm, so after considering the matter she offered her hand to him. He took it, and it was a wash of relief. Her fingers curled around his and she smiled in the comfort of it.
It had to be right. The person and the place and the time. She really liked Eddie, but her anxiety had been bad that day so it itched in her brain and it’d been too much.
Eddie made her feel comfortable by his presence alone so it was almost two weeks before it happened again, a date after a fight with her mother and she didn't feel comfortable in her skin when she'd arrived. She could handle the welcome kiss. Wanted it. But he'd put his hand on her back and she'd shivered and pulled away.
“Sorry, I can't. It's not you,” she winced. Eddie was so good at listening to her. Maybe he'd listen.
His hand pulled away immediately. “Sorry. It's ok. Are you alright?”
She shrugged. It was uncomfortable talking about it. She'd never talked about it. But Eddie never called her stupid or brushed her off, he’d even accepted being turned down for sex without a second ask, so maybe…
“I just don't like being touched sometimes. Like. When I'm stressed?” That wasn't a good explanation. It was hard to describe. Stressed wasn't a bad word for it, it just didn't feel like it encompassed all the overwhelming feelings that came on those days where she wanted everyone to leave her alone.
“Ok,” he nodded and licked his lips. “Do you wanna tell me when that happens or… you could have a signal, code word when you say hello. Or wearing a blue scrunchie means bad,” he proposed, pulling ideas from his endless creative brain.
She laughed softly, “Uh, then it might not match, duh.” She shook her head gently. “I can just tell you. It's not all the time. You're great. I like…” she bit her lip, it felt breathless to say it out loud, “I like when you touch me. It's just on bad days.”
“Is there anything I can do on bad days?”
Chrissy frowned. “They're not all the same.” Some bad days all she wanted was to be held. Others if she was even near another person it felt like too much. The balance was hard. “You should tell me too. If I touch you and you don't want it.”
One side of his smile curled. “That is very sweet, and if we hit the one in a million day I don't want you to touch me, I promise I'll tell you, but you should consider yourself safe, princess.”
It felt a little bad that she couldn't be that way too, that it couldn't be easy and simple, but it was flattering he thought of her that way and she chose to focus on Eddie's smile and not her insecurities. He made that easier. Eddie made a lot of things easier. He loved her in a way that made impossible things feel possible.
“Ok. Maybe like, we could practice? So I’m more used to it.”
“I think I’ve got the concept of not touching down. I aced kindergarten,” he joked.
“No, not that part. I wanna…” Her lips pressed together as she gave herself a last chance to think about it. Yeah. She did. If it’d work with anyone it’d work with Eddie. “I wanna try to see if I can get used to being touched when I feel bad. Like if I can make it get easier. I’d trust you.”
“Whoa, hey, Chrissy,” Eddie’s hands went up and he was shaking his head to dismiss it, clearly worried, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, if some days you don’t want me to touch you then some days I don’t touch you. Even if that’s a lot of days!” he assured.
“I’m really glad you feel that way, but I hate feeling like this, and I wish I just,” she sighed and her chest felt shaky, “Sometimes all I want is to be held, but it feels like if anyone touches me I’ll shatter into a million pieces, do you have any idea how awful that is? Maybe if I practice with someone who will listen it’ll get better. Because no one ever listens, Eddie, and if I put my foot down I’m a bitch!” Chrissy broke. Saying it out loud cracked her in two. She sobbed. The day and the raw heart of her confession ate up all she had left, and Chrissy buried her face in her hands so she didn’t have to look at Eddie’s reaction.
“Oh, princess…” The soft of his voice made her sob again. “I would normally hug you, but no touching, so, uh, can I get you anything? Can I distract you, should I be quiet? I can listen?”
Chrissy wiped her eyes. “No, actually I think I’d really like a hug.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. Chrissy did still feel a little breakable, but she also felt like she was eight years old when all she wanted was a hug. She had vivid memories of leaving a date crying because it went badly. If she can redo it. Get it right. Get the hug she wants and not a hand up her sweater maybe it’ll work.
“Ok.”
She looked up to watch him close the two steps between them and Eddie cautiously put his arms around her. He gave her time to get out of it. Second guess. But she didn’t run or fight back.
A shiver ran through her as she went willingly into his arms and she was stiff at first. Breathed into it. Chrissy focused on the smell of Eddie while pushing the tension out of her shoulders. Familiar. Comforting.
“Tighter,” she urged. He listened. She relaxed a little more into the firmness of his embrace. Her arms were huddled against his chest and cheek pressed to him as she curled into his body. It wasn’t so bad. Good, maybe. She trembled.
“Are you ok?” came the low rumble of Eddie's voice, half felt as it rose through his throat.
“I think so,” Chrissy whispered. I want to be she thought.
Maybe someday. Maybe she'd get there. Maybe this was the start.