"Yar."

"It's almost like you have a social life or something."

She considers this, turning it about in her mind. It doesn't take her long. "Yeah. When I was talking to Mom and Jess - not last Sunday, but the one before - and I told Mom that if I didn't just start talking to her all the time, not to take it personally 'cause I don't talk to anyone?"

He nods.

"I thought about it later. That's not good. I can't just do that."

It's true. She tends to withdraw - it's easier. Easier than putting oneself out there, making oneself open and vulnerable. Easier than dealing with people and their drama. She likes her own company. She might get on her own nerves occasionally - okay, a lot - but that's still easier and somehow preferable than dealing with other people getting on her nerves.

But she feels lonely sometimes. And guilty. Like she's ditched all of her friends and family. She imagines what it would feel like in a reversed situation - and doesn't like it.

She doesn't now and never has liked the friendships most people seem to be interested in having with her - the kind where she's the only one making any sort of effort to keep the friendship alive - but she also recognizes that any friendship requires both parties to make an effort.

And so she's been making an effort. Baby steps, but at least it's something. And when babies learn to walk, it is only baby steps at first, but it becomes steadier and easier and pretty soon the baby's a kid who's running.

She'll never be an extrovert, never a social butterfly... but maybe she'll stop being quite as withdrawn as she is now.