And Yet She Continued To Help Him Be The Best That He Could
She always managed to see the best in him, even though he was unable to do the same for himself.
She knew, as she always had once he had gotten over his initial shyness and she was able to understand that his basic strangeness was actually attractive in a peculiar kind of way, that he was somehow unable to see himself as others did. This was also something that set him apart from so many of the people that she normally met. It could be endearing and charming at times, when he would fail to recognise so many of the things that she liked and admired about him. She would smile and tease him a little when this happened and she would enjoy trying to show him, to explain, what to her was so obvious.
She persevered and enjoyed the challenge. Sometimes though, when he seemed particularly unreceptive or otherwise engaged, she would start to feel a little hurt and wonder why she bothered. After all, it was all for his benefit, or at least, that’s what she told herself. But, when she caught herself thinking like this and realised that her frustrations were starting to show, she would walk away, a little disappointed but happy that she was handling it well.
But she still wished that she could understand why he seemed unable, or unwilling, to see what she saw.
She liked to think that she was helping him to be the best that he could be, and to maybe fulfill some of the dreams and desires that he managed to keep hidden most of the time. She knew they existed, because sometimes, when the barriers had been lowered and his mind was in the right place, he would talk about creativity and the “what ifs” that seemed to both excite and haunt him. But those moments were rare.
She did her best to remember, and the hidden ambitions and his more obvious blocking of her attempts to point out his attributes or skills, well, they became the fuel for her determination to help him succeed. And, at the same time, to allow her kindness and obstinate positivity some kind of happy conclusion.
Was this what they meant when they talked about “win / win”? She wasn’t sure, but she did believe that her simple desire to help him see himself differently had evolved into something else, something that she found herself enthusiastically invested in.
And then, when she watched him, finally, believe in himself and find a moment of manic creativity, she would find herself reflecting on whether to feel satisfied or just relieved. Whatever it was, these were the times when she also wondered whether there was a word to describe what it was that she seemed to have become for him. Facilitator, helper, supporter? She didn’t know what was accurate or appropriate.
But when she did allow herself to be a little self-indulgent, and this mostly coincided with his creative excesses, well, it was then that she sometimes imagined herself playing the muse to his troubled artist.
And this always made her smile.
