Avery

It was May, and the only social engagement I would be attending was my nephew’s birthday party. I spent hours deciding on a gift. It had to be something that wouldn’t hurt him. I didn’t want to get him anything sports-related, nothing with wheels, for obvious reasons. I didn’t want to get him any video games, in case they inspired him to try jumping from the rooftop of one building to another. I wouldn’t get him shoes, because he could trip and fall in them and that would be my fault. Nothing Lego or ninja-related. I didn’t even want to give him a book in case he got a paper cut. Maybe I was worried he’d associate me and therefore all women with pain. Maybe I associated his broken arm with the night that I totally blew it with Luke. I ended up getting him Blu-ray discs of The Goonies and all of the Back to the Future movies, which was really a gift for Jimmy.

Bucket and Ingrid’s wedding was a week away, and I had no intention of going, especially since Bucket had informed me that Luke would be there. An apartment full of screaming eight-year-old boys and my niece was the perfect event to take my mind off of it. Jackson’s arm had healed up nicely, and when I arrived, he was using it to throw popcorn at his sister. I would have told him to stop it, but I was annoyed at her for asking me if Luke wasn’t with me because I was such an ugly poopie head. Because she was basically right. If I hadn’t been an ugly poopie head, surely he would have tried harder to convince me that things could work out between us. Or: if I hadn’t been an ugly poopie head, I would have tried harder to convince myself that things could work out for us.

I waded through the sea of boys and toys, towards the kitchen, so I could help Jackie with food and drink. Jimmy was at Costco picking up a cake, and probably also a new gaming system, a case of wine, and a giant thing of beef jerky for the drive home.

She handed me a big plastic bowl and a large bag of cheese-flavored popcorn. “Thanks,” I said. “What are the kids having?”

She made a vague sound of humor-appreciation, and then held up a bottle of merlot. “This is for us.”

I opened the bag of popcorn and poured it into the bowl. That was easy.

“You called him?” She didn’t look up at me as she said it.

“Nope.”

“Heard from him?”

“We’re both super busy with work…I assume.”

She looked straight into my eyes. “How are you?”

“Your place looks great, you must have been up all night cleaning. I could have helped.”

“How are you?”

“Fine, great, good. You?”

“How are you?” She gave me the Big Sister Look, and I melted.

I sighed. I slouched. “I’ve never been so lonely in my life.”

“Go to London.”

“I can’t.”

“Go. To. London.”

“You think it’s really that easy? You think I can just drop everything—everything that I’ve been working towards, the whole idea I’ve had of myself for my life? You think it’s easy for me to even admit that there’s some part of me that’s dying to just have sex every night and on the weekends and binge-watch Game of Thrones in bed with my guy while eating pizza and drinking margaritas?”

Jackie did a really good job of not laughing at me. Almost. And then I laughed too. And then we were tearing up and hugging.

“I love you, you weirdo. You are my best friend, and I will miss you if you end up moving to London, but if you don’t go to London to at least tell Luke how miserable you have been without him, I honestly believe that your whole life will turn to shit and you’ll be this bitter cynical lady all filled with regret, and I don’t want to play the Mom card again, but…stop driving away happiness. You deserve sex and pizza and Game of Thrones. We all do.” She shoved a handful of chips into her mouth.

“Crap.” I sighed. “I’m really going to do this, aren’t I?”

“You better.”

“What if…”

“Just go and tell him how you feel.”

“Yeah but what if…”

“It can’t get any worse than what you’ve been going through since he left. A weight will be lifted. I promise you. The big thing you forgot to put in your life schedule is happiness. And hot sex.”

We both stuffed our faces with potato chips. She poured us each a glass of wine, and we toasted to Sir Flirty McFlirtson.

Before I’d finished the glass, while watching my sister place Spiderman cupcakes onto a tray, and listening to the kids yelling gleefully in the next room when Jimmy returned with an enormous cake, I got it. We work so that we can come home to play with our loved ones, not so we can keep finding excuses for why we don’t.

I felt ready to stop flirting with love, and finally make a commitment to it.