Chapter 3 - A Tentative Exploration
I'm at the edge of my seat.
Sylvia's room has always been a place of comfort for me. I could pretty much show up uninvited and hang out whenever, which was an absolute lifesaver when I was pissed off at my parents, or at Chris, for whatever reason.
Sylvia would work on our assignments and I'd just watch videos on my phone, or chill, or scrounge for snacks. It was... safe.
But now, I feel scrutinised.
Sylvia leans against her desk, arms folded. She eyes me with an intensity that makes me squirm in my seat. I fidget with my hands in my lap.
"...It's just... so weird, you know?"
I shrug, noting internally that I can't quite meet her gaze. A part of me feels that it would be rude, confrontational. It would make the conversation more adversarial.
It would not suit her needs.
So, I look away, fumbling about for words. "Only because you're making it weird."
Normally, I'd be far snappier, here. I'd tell Sylvia to mind her own business, that I'm an adult who can fuck who I want, and I don't need to ask her permission for that.
But the mere echo of that thought is enough for the ring of shimmering mist to close back in on me, tighter and sparklier. So pretty...
"Oh, I'm making it weird?" Sylvia asks, theatrically rolling her eyes. "I dunno. Seems to me like your behaviour is what's weird here. Come on, let's be serious."
I open my mouth to protest, but my voice comes out small and uncertain. "That's not true. I'm just being nicer lately, that's all."
"Really?" Sylvia arches an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Because it seems to me like you've turned into a... a doormat, or something."
I feel a flush of embarrassment creeping up my neck. "No, it's... it's not like that!"
I should sound way more sure of myself than this. Why do I sound so feeble? This lack of conviction in my replies is... alarming.
I should get angry, tell her off, but... the colors... My shoulders slump, my will deflates...
"Let's tally the score," Sylvia says, apparently energised by my failure to push back against her arguments. "At school, you've become the epytome of good behaviour, literally overnight. At home, you're doing Chris' chores without complaint - your words, not mine! You're being so agreeable with everyone, and for god's sake, you're letting those guys..."
She cuts herself short, shaking her head like the details are so self-evident that it would be beneath her to even mention them.
My vision clears again as I try to defend myself. "Well, I mean... the chores, I guess that's true." I kinda have to admit that much, in fairness. "But he's just my brother, and I'm just trying to be, you know, helpful."
"You've been super helpful with Derek too, haven't you? And his friends, for good measure..." Sylvia says, and I squirm at the way she's looking at me. I can feel myself turning redder than a pepper.
"That's not... I mean, it's different with Derek..."
It's a weak protest, even to my ears. Maybe more ominously, as soon as the words leave my mouth, a cold, queasy feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. Like a part of me knows something my conscious mind doesn't.
No. No, no, no. The mist is pretty and colorful, and there's nothing wrong with making Derek feel good. I've been an insufferable asshole to him for years. Plus, his friends didn't believe him, of course I had to help!
Besides, I enjoyed it too, there's that fact as well! I'm a modern young woman who enjoys sex. Why does that have to be dissected under a microscope?
"Look, it's fine," I mutter, picking at a loose thread on my jeans. "I'm fine. I do all of this because I feel good."
"Yeah," Sylvia says, "because you've clearly been satisfied."
"I feel good because I like sex," I say at last, snapping. "And yes, I also I enjoy being helpful to people. It feels good! Like, take us, for example. I like helping you, Syl."
"Oh, don't even get me started on that," Sylvia replies, rolling her eyes. "Do you even listen to yourself? You were such a bitch to me during our group project, you always made me do more than my fair share. That wasn't months or years ago, Pheebs, it was practically yesterday!"
"Right, and I don't want to be that person anymore!" I say, and I'm surprised to realise I've shouted that last part out loud. I clear my throat, lowering my voice again. "How is that a bad thing? I'm trying to be better, Syl. I'm trying to make up for how I treated you and everyone else."
"You're missing the point," Sylvia says, gently, shaking her head. In truth, she sounds a little... condescending. The sort of thing that would have made me blow a gasket not too long ago. Now, though, it just hurts, because it implies I've been inadequately attentive to her needs.
"Of course it would be a good thing," she says, "but it's not what you're doing. You've gone from one extreme to the other! And literally overnight! I'm telling you Pheebs, it's like you're a totally different person lately. You don't say no to anything! It's freaking me out a bit."
"Yeah, right," I say, though I conspicuously fail at keeping my voice snarky and steady. "I'm not an alien from outer space, Syl. I'm just trying to be a better person. But that doesn't mean I'm... servile. I'm just a better friend now, and that's why I want to make sure you're getting everything you need."
She arches an eyebrow. "Phoebe, please. This is me you're talking to. I know you better than anyone. And the Phoebe I know would never just roll over and be at people's beck and call like a trained puppy. There has to be more to it."
She steps closer, studying my face intently as if searching for clues. "We're all supposed to be a little self-referential. I don't want you to be selfish like before, but look at what you've literally just said. You want to make sure I get everything I need. Do you not realize how you sound? You're not my butler."
I open and close my mouth, looking for words, any words. Eventually, I find some, though they hardly sound like they're going to save me.
"Look, maybe we should just drop it. I don't want to talk about this anymore."
But Sylvia is relentless. "No way. We're getting to the bottom of this, Pheebs. Because it's what I want."
"But that's just so unfair!" I say, my voice unsteady with frustration. "You're my friend, of course if you express a need like that I'm going to listen to you! But that doesn't mean I've been magically, I don't know, lobotomised or something..."
Sylvia interrupts me, snapping her fingers in front of my face. "Focus, Phoebe. This is exactly what I'm talking about, you're rationalising everything you do. I don't want to talk about your motivations, I just want to see whether I'm right or not. You didn't even want to come here! You only came over because I told you to."
No, no no. That's not true, simply because it's not physically possible. It doesn't make logical sense. If it's not real, it can't be real. "I came because my best friend wanted to talk," I tell her, trying to sound firm but caring. "That's all."
Oddly, Sylvia seems... amused by that response. Like I've just given her an opening to make a point. "So, if I asked you to do something silly, something that's not important to me at all, something totally unnecessary... say, if I, erm, dared you to do something like that... you'd say no?"
"Of course," I say. I have no problem saying no. I'm normal, I'm fine, everything's fine.
