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Anastasia’s Point Of View.
Hannah bothered me, not because she was ordinarily bothersome; rather, she was in the wrong place at the wrong time, right now, and that bothered me.
I sat in my bedroom, bereft, admittedly feeling sorry for myself. If she had been brutal, my girlfriend would have shaken me out of my pity party for one, but she was very caring.
We finished our workout, during which Amy was far more sensitive to my situation than my parents were. She had her challenges to overcome, getting reacquainted with a father she thought was dead.
After showering, I felt better, so I joined Hannah at breakfast. My mother had left to be with her lover, so Dad was my only potential thorn.
I strolled into the dining room, holding Hannah’s hand. When I saw my mother, surprise, then instinct, and anger overwhelmed me, so I turned around and walked out.
Now, in my bedroom, Hannah and I quarreled.
“I have work to do, Hannah.”
“Yes, sweetheart, I understand, but you’re hurting emotionally. Anyone can see that. I’m not leaving you alone.”
“I have to compartmentalize personal life away from business. My job is more important than parents who are behaving as hormone-filled adolescent children might.”
“Is work more important than your mental health?”
“No… oh come on now, Hannah… that’s not fucking fair. You’re being intrusive.”
“Maybe, but only because I care about you.”