It was nearly noon when I arrived, and despite the hour, the restaurant parking lot was only half full. It had been four days since the incident at the bar, but honestly, it felt like a lifetime. That person wasn’t me; I was never the guy to get in a fight. But this year, I became a lot of things I wasn’t before. I became the guy who quit college. The guy who had one-night stands. The guy who got blackout drunk. And now, apparently, the guy who punched people out.
I told myself I agreed to go to the restaurant simply because I wanted to apologize. And I did. But deep down, I also knew I wanted the chance to explain I wasn’t that person. It mattered what those girls thought of me; it mattered what Alara thought of me.
I’d only known her for two hours. Two freaking hours. Barely enough time to watch a movie nowadays, but still, it felt like something was there. And it was different than the casual hookups I had in Europe. Different than my relationship with Miranda.
Obviously, I didn’t love her. Hell, I didn’t even know her. But sometimes you meet a person and you just know on some level they belong in your life. I didn’t know in what capacity, but I knew somewhere in my life, there was room for this girl. And while I wasn’t planning our marriage or even our first date, I knew she was going to matter.
I called Derek as soon as I parked my car in front of the restaurant. He told me he was picking up Sherry and Naomi since they were together, and they’d all be here in fifteen minutes.
“What about Alara? How’s she getting here?”
“Naomi just spoke to her and I guess she’s already there,” he mumbled as I heard a honk in the background.
“Oh, okay. Well, I’m here too, so I guess I’ll go in and join her.”
“Sure, just try not to get in a fight that results in her landing on her ass again,” he said dryly before he hung up.
I glared at my phone before shoving it in my pocket and getting out of my car.
Derek had spoken to Sherry later the night of the fight, and when he told me of an already forming bruise on her hip and wrist, I was more than pissed. Naomi was surprisingly nice about the whole thing and was very concerned with making sure I didn’t feel bad. It didn’t work, I still felt awful. And despite Derek’s consolation in the car, he still was giving me grief over it.
As I neared the restaurant, I opened the door and took a step back, allowing an elderly couple to go in first. They smiled and thanked me as they entered. I watched them walk past the hostess stand and up to a large table where the rest of their party was already seated.
“Good evening, sir. How many?” the hostess greeted.
“Five. But one’s already here,” I said as my eyes casually swept the restaurant for her.
“Alara?”
“Yeah.”
“Perfect,” she said while walking around the desk and beckoning me to follow. “She’s just at that table in the back.”
“Thanks,” I said and turned my attention to the semicircle booth that was remarkably similar to the one from the bar. She was sitting in the same spot, too, not quite centered and just off to the right.
Even from here, I could tell something was different. At first, all I could see was the top of her messy bun—she was hunched over a journal and was writing so fast and with such vigor I thought she would tear right through the pages. When she leaned back, it was like she was coming up for air, and she smiled at what she saw on the pages.
“Excuse me, sir,” I heard a voice say.
I realized I was standing in the middle of a restaurant and there was a plate of food about to be whisked into my head. I mumbled an apology and headed to the booth. Alara had returned to her former position, so engrossed in her writing that she didn’t even register my presence until I slid into the booth across from her. With a start, she sat up straight and stared at me, wide-eyed, like she didn’t know me. How the hell could she not remember?
That depressing thought was immediately cut off as her eyes shrank and her grin grew. “Hey, Gabe.”
I drew in a quick breath at the sound of my name on her lips. She’d never said my name that night at the bar, and honestly, I’d never given the sound of my name much thought. But it sounded different, better, coming from her than it ever had before. I never loved my name as much as I did in that moment.
A moment of slightly awkward silence descended on us as I just stared at her before I realized I hadn’t said anything. “Hi.”
Alara’s lips quirked slightly, drawing my gaze to her mouth. Her bare lips were the palest shade of pink, and the light sheen on them had me swallowing hard. Just like her lips, the rest of her face was free of makeup. I could see the faint dark circles under her eyes and the scattered redness on her cheeks, but she still looked beautiful with her bright-green eyes and wide smile. My eyes dipped lower to her black sweatshirt that read, Sorry I’m late. I didn’t want to come. I smiled and brought my gaze up to hers where she was already waiting.
“I’m trying hard not to take that personally,” I said as I nodded toward her chest.
Her brow furrowed, and she looked down before shaking her head and laughing. “Oh. I went to the gym earlier and somehow I always end up wearing this on gym days. Probably because I hate the gym.” She lifted the material from her chest and looked back at me as her laughter faded.
“I’m sensing a pattern here. You seem to just dislike public places.”
“Well, I definitely prefer being in my bed over almost everything else.”
My eyebrows rose and my lips quirked as I thought of all the things we could do in her bed. She seemed to sense my thoughts because her eyes widened in horror and the blush across her face was instantaneous.
“I-I didn’t mean it that way. I just… I’m much more of a homebody.”
Nodding, I decided to give her a break. Torturing her would have no doubt been fun, but my conscience screamed at me to get to the point.
“Look, about the other night—” I began at the same time she asked, “How’s your hand?”
We both paused as small smiles tugged at our lips. She waved me off and shook her head before saying, “Don't worry about what happened. It wasn’t your fault. Naomi told me how bad you felt.” She frowned slightly as she tore up the straw wrapper in front of her.
I didn’t respond. Instead, all I could do was stare. I’d never thrown a punch in my life before that night, but she didn’t know that, and I was amazed she didn't just assume I was some asshole with an aggression problem. I knew some women found that attractive, but I was willing to bet money Alara wasn’t one of them.
She picked up her glass to take a drink, and when she set it back down, I noticed her hands were fidgeting. As she noted my stare, she quickly pulled them beneath the table, out of sight. After a few more seconds, her whole body started to squirm, and she asked the question I could already read on her face. “What?”
“I just… I don’t understand how can you be so understanding? You were hurt—”
“I’m not entirely sure what you were told, but it’s just a couple of bruises, nothing more. Any blood you saw was from his nose.”
“Good.” I nodded absentmindedly. “About his nose, I mean.” I shook my head and took a deep breath.
Despite everyone’s assurance, I couldn’t stop the familiar feeling of guilt from settling in my stomach. Accidents happened. I knew that. I wasn’t trying to be a martyr. I knew a clear conscience could be found deeper if I cared to look, but I didn’t think I deserved that. Maybe it was residual guilt from leaving Sam when she needed me. Maybe it was the feeling that I was failing everyone and leaving them worse than before I found them. Maybe—
“Look.” She started, and my internal babble was cut short as I glanced over to find Alara biting her lip, looking pensive and unsure. In any other context, a girl biting her lip would be a major turn-on, but right now, it had me feeling anxious and uneasy.
“What is it?”
She slowly rolled up her sleeve so I could plainly see four distinct fingerprints in the form of angry purple bruises on her right wrist. I sucked in a breath and opened my mouth when she quickly raised her hands to halt my speech. I nodded my understanding.
“This”—she paused, pointing to her arm—“was intentional. The other stuff was an accident. You were trying to help me.” She paused again as she thought carefully about her next words. Like whatever she had to say might be the most important thing I’d ever hear. It was nice knowing this girl, who for all intents and purposes was a stranger, cared enough to take time with her words. “In some situations, society is convinced intent is the only thing that matters, while in other situations, society insists only the final outcome matters. I personally don’t believe it’s ever as cut and dry as that. You can’t look at the outcome without considering the intent, and vice versa. I know you didn’t want me to get hurt, and for me that matters more than the fact that I accidently did.”
I was completely immobilized by the sincere look on her face that pleaded with me to accept her truth.
“Okay?”
“Yeah,” I choked out. “Okay.”
“Good,” she replied with a wide grin. She grabbed a menu and began browsing as though the last five minutes hadn’t changed anything. Meanwhile I sat and stared at her, lost in my thoughts about how the last five minutes might have changed everything.
…
We were silent and waiting for the rest of the group when our waitress came over. “Hello, can I get you something to drink while you wait?” she asked, looking at me.
“Water’s fine. Thanks.” The server left, and my eyes found Alara’s. “What were you writing?” I asked, nodding to her bag.
“I—” Looking relieved, she was cut off as Naomi and a guy I didn’t recognize walked up to the table. A chorus of hellos went out as Naomi slid in next to Alara, and the guy followed.
“Gabe, this is Caleb, my boyfriend. And Caleb, this is Gabe, Derek’s new roommate,” Naomi said as she waved her hand between us.
We’d just finished shaking hands when Derek and Sherry walked in. Derek nudged my shoulder, forcing me to scoot all the way to the top of the curve where I was plastered against Alara’s side once again. She gave me a shy smile as she positioned her bag onto her lap so there was more room.
The restaurant started getting busier as the lunch crowd finally descended and our waitress’s attention on us became increasingly sparse. Everyone fell into easy conversation as we discussed things from the events of Thursday night to what we did with the rest of the weekend. I still had a hard time believing that two weeks ago, I had been getting ready to leave Prague—homeless, jobless, and friendless—and now I was sitting in a trendy diner with four (maybe five) new friends.
Our waitress had just dropped off our food, and the plate was barely on the table before Naomi picked up her burger and took a huge bite of it.
“Charming,” Caleb drawled.
“Fanks,” she said around a mouthful of food. Once she swallowed, she lifted the bun and grunted. “Damn, they forgot the ketchup. Could you grab me some?”
Caleb nodded once before standing up and walking to the server stand.
“He doesn’t talk much, does he?” I asked Alara as I leaned over. I saw my breath tickle the hair around her ear, and I smiled when I felt the heat from her reddening cheeks. But when I felt her body go stiff, I leaned back a little until she was comfortable again.
“No, not really. He, uh, he’s more of an observer.” Her attention was quickly wrenched away from me as Naomi started complaining about all the reading her classes required before the first day of the semester tomorrow.
When Caleb returned, she took the bottle and dumped it on her burger without taking a breath away from her rant. “It’s just not fair. Homework over the summer is practically a sin.” She slammed the bottle on the table, sans cap, causing some to shoot up and land with a splat on the table. “Ah, dammit, can you go grab me some napkins?” Naomi asked dismissively as she turned to Alara again with her finger raised. “And another thing…”
I stopped listening as I looked over to Caleb in time to see him roll his eyes and, with reluctance, stand up again. He sat again just as Derek asked for Naomi’s purse. She handed it over with a strange expression before wiping up the ketchup and rolling the napkin into a ball.
“What are you looking for?” she asked when he started rummaging around in it and putting her things on the table. Wallet. Keys. Cell phone. Tampon. Voodoo doll? We all turned to stare at her. She didn’t look fazed in the slightest; she merely shrugged and repeated her question.
“They have to be in here somewhere,” he mumbled.
“Hey, jackass. Maybe if you tell me what you’re looking for, I can help you find it.” She raised her eyebrow in a challenge, and Derek answered with a smirk that looked like trouble.
“Oh boy,” Alara whispered next to me.
I leaned in once more, her body much less rigid than last time. “Does that smirk mean what I think it means?” I whispered back.
“If you think it means trouble, then yes, it does.” She gave me a sideways glance and a small, genuine smile just as Derek spoke again.
“I was just looking for Caleb’s balls.”
Sherry joined in on Derek’s laughter, and Naomi looked sheepish, as she seemed to consider the past few minutes from her boyfriend’s perspective. Caleb grunted before pulling out a twenty and throwing it on the table. He stood and strode from the restaurant without a single word.
Naomi’s face rapidly morphed into pissed as she got out of the booth and grabbed the twenty. “You’re an asshole,” she said as she ripped her purse away from him. “And for that, you can pay for both our meals.” She stormed away after shoving the money in her purse, chasing after Caleb.
“Why’d you do that?” Alara asked, and I couldn’t help but notice that even with a third of the booth vacated, she didn’t move an inch. I smiled into my glass as I took a sip.
“He was just messing around,” Sherry said as she rolled her eyes like everyone was overreacting.
“Yeah, and with anyone else, that would have been fine. But he knows Caleb barely tolerates him as it is.”
“It’s not my fault he has a stick up his ass. Besides, he is pussy whipped.”
“So because he does nice things for your sister, respects her, and tries to make her happy, he’s…” She trailed off and blushed at the impending words. “That.” She finally finished while waving a hand in Derek’s direction.
“What?” Derek feigned ignorance as he playfully bit back a grin. Alara’s eyes narrowed, and there was nothing playful about it. He exhaled and ran his palm down his face. “I just don’t get why they’re dragging this out.”
Everyone was quiet as the three of them looked between each other and the front door. No one said anything else. We finished our meals in complete silence until it was time to leave.
I sat at home that night and thought about how awkward the rest of the meal had been. I knew what Derek meant, and I knew he was doing what he thought was best. But Naomi had to come to the realization that Caleb and her had run out of time on her own. When they first started dating, they had so much in common, but for the past year or so, the things they had in common seemed to drift away. Naomi stopped being charmed by Caleb’s video game habits. Caleb’s dedication to his pre-med degree left little time for the debates he and Naomi always used to have. They grew up, but they grew in different directions.
Naomi insisted there needed to be a concrete reason for a breakup. “We hardly fight, Alara. There’s no reason to break up,” she’d always said. And I got it. Caleb was there for the worst moments of her life; she felt like she owed it to him. But what she couldn’t see was Caleb felt the same way. They both held on to the past far too much, and neither was willing to be the one to end what looked like a perfect high school sweetheart-type relationship.
This year, both their studies had been more intense, and we’d all kind of hoped that meant they’d finally see their relationship for what it was. But Derek’s meddling was not the way to go about it. Because Naomi would kick, claw, bitch slap, bite, and pretty much everything else if she thought any of us were interfering. Unfortunately, this was something they’d have to come to on their own, even if—
The door slammed, pulling me from my thoughts.
“God, he’s such an asshole!” Naomi yelled as she stormed into our apartment and threw her purse on the counter.
“Caleb?”
She frowned before grabbing a bottle of wine and a glass. “No, Derek.”
“It wasn’t that bad, Naomi.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“The side of sanity,” I said as I flipped through my textbook.
She pursed her lips before forgoing the glass and drinking straight from the bottle. “Well… could you not? Logic is really going to mess with the tantrum I’m trying to have right now.”
I chuckled as I threw my textbook to the ground. “Sorry.” I cleared my throat before yelling, “THAT BASTARD!”
“Much better. Thank you.” Naomi bowed before flopping onto the opposite end of the couch.
I held out my hand for the bottle. “Are you and Caleb okay?”
“Yeah. He wasn’t all that mad. He said he just wasn’t in the mood for Derek’s crap.”
“He never really seems mad about anything anymore…”
She rolled her eyes and took the bottle back after I’d had a sip. “Not you, too,” she moaned. “How could him not getting angry possibly indicate something bad?”
I hesitated, because didn’t I just say interfering would yield nothing good? But if she outright asked, it wasn’t interfering, right? Right. “Well, typically, one gets mad because they care. If you don’t care, you’re indifferent. Kind of like you said he’s been lately.”
She paused before adamantly shaking her head. “No, that’s just because we’ve been together so long. We know what’s worth getting angry over.”
“Okay, then when’s the last time either of you got angry?” I challenged with a raised brow.
“Stop asking so many hard questions. I’m drunk.” As if to punctuate that statement, she guzzled some more wine.
“You’ve only had about two glasses. You’re not drunk. But I’ll give you a pass.” I bent to retrieve my textbook and notebook, making sure to keep my face impassive.
“You and those goddamn passes,” she mumbled as she walked into her room. Moments later, I heard rap music pounding out of her room, effectively eliminating the reappearance of a sober Naomi tonight.
…
A couple nights later, Naomi was still in a funk. School had started this week, and we were enjoying the last bit of relaxation before we were consumed with classes and homework. Sherry had texted me just as I was leaving my last class for the day.
Sherry: EMERGENCY! We need some pizza…and more wine. Stat!
Me: More wine? We had four bottles…
Sherry: and now you don’t…
Sherry: c’mon, it’s a Friday night… whatcha expect?
Me: It’s Friday afternoon, and it’s only 4:30…
Sherry: …
Me: Right.
Sherry: See you soon :)
After making two quick stops, I was pulling up in front of the apartment forty-five minutes later. I’d barely finished pushing open the door before I started talking. “You will never guess who I bumped into while picking up the…” I trailed off as my words became muffled by the loud noise inside. The door remained ajar as I stood in the entryway, still clutching the knob while balancing two pizza boxes and a bottle of wine, taking in the scene before me.
The coffee table had been pushed against the wall opposite the door, and in its place was Naomi’s Rock Band set. A cursory glance showed Naomi, Sherry, and Gabe performing “Livin’ on a Prayer.” My eyes instantly landed on Sherry, who was posed on the edge of the love seat farthest from me as she pounded the drum set in front of her. She played without any finesse, merely flailing her arms while head banging and bouncing on the seat.
My gaze then slid to Gabe on the other love seat, who was, less enthusiastically but with considerably more skill than Sherry, playing the guitar. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt that showcased his forearm muscles as he played. I couldn’t stop the smile on my face as I watched him, his eyes completely focused on the screen as a little bit of his tongue stuck out in thoughtful concentration. My presence still unknown to the trio, my eyes lingered on Gabe until a shrieking forced my line of sight to Naomi. Her back was to me, but I got her profile every couple of seconds as she all but maimed one of the greatest songs to exist.
The song was coming to an end when Sherry came to a premature stop and immediately noticed me in the doorway. She gave me a wide smile and quick wink before lifting her loose tank top up to wipe the sweat off her face, flashing her neon-orange sports bra in the process. But hey, if I had abs like hers, I’d probably walk around shirtless all damn day.
I shifted my attention back to Gabe just as he lowered the guitar to his lap. When I met his eyes, I found him already staring at me with a small smile gracing his lips. He opened his mouth to say something when Naomi suddenly turned around, dropped the microphone, and rushed to me.
“Alara!” she yelled as she threw herself at me and wrapped me in a hug.
“Uhh…” I glanced up to see Sherry wearing a shit-eating grin and Gabe covering up a laugh behind his hand before Naomi’s voice brought my eyes back down to her.
“We’re celebrating!” Naomi hiccupped before cackling loudly and falling to the floor around my feet.
“What are we celebrating?”
“Our friendship with Gabe. Duh. It’s been like a week, and that’s some serious shit. That’s like… like a fourth of the life of a housefly.”
“Riiiight,” I said as I glanced at Sherry and Gabe with raised eyebrows.
“Seriously. Gabe is the best. He’s just so freaking nice. And would you look at the face?” She got up and stumbled over to him until she had his face scrunched between her hands. “We’re gonna be best friends, right?”
“Of course.” Gabe nodded sincerely as he tried to remove her hands. She sighed happily as she let go and smiled at me.
“Psst,” she tried to whisper to me. “You should totally date him.” My cheeks flamed as Sherry and Gabe laughed. “Seriously, I don’t know how you do it.”
“Do what?” I tried to force a casual tone into my voice as my face began to cool.
“Not have sex. Or get off at all.” Aaand just like that, I was red again. “I mean, unless you’re really quiet when you masturbate. Sex is great, Alara. I mean, seriously, it’s probably even better than cheesecake.” She paused before bursting out laughing. “Oh, what the hell am I saying? Nothing is better than cheesecake. Unless of course I’m eating cheesecake while I’m having sex. Or what if—”
“Okay.” I cut her off as I raised my shoulders as an alternative to lifting up my hands, which were still full. “We get it.”
“Just think about it,” she whisper-yelled before slumping all the way to the floor.
Sherry was still laughing as she grabbed her purse and pulled out her cell phone. Thankfully, Gabe pretended the last two minutes hadn’t happened as he set his instrument against the back of the couch and stood.
“Here, let me help you with that,” he offered while walking toward me.
My arms had become a little numb from the pizza boxes while the wine bottle’s neck had grown slick with the sweat from my palm.
“It’s no problem. I’ve got it.” I tried to duck around him and avoid his eyes, but he cut me off and shook his head before plucking the pizzas out of my hand and tipping his head toward the bottle of wine I was clutching. Once I handed it over, he gave me a reassuring smile and swiftly turned the corner toward the kitchen before returning empty-handed several seconds later.
“Sherry, we agreed,” I said sternly as I came to a stop a few feet in front of her.
“I know, I know. But he didn’t believe me.” Sherry pointed an accusing finger at Gabe.
“Well, I hope now that you’ve seen the spectacle, you will never put us through this again,” I said to Gabe.
“I didn’t know anyone could sound that bad and still think they sound good,” Gabe said softly, almost like he was talking to himself.
Sherry snorted. “Please, she could make our ears bleed while watching dogs cringe while breaking glass and still think she deserves a Grammy.”
“Hey, assholes!” Naomi shouted. “I can still hear you assholes, and I’m excellent. You assholes just don’t understand.” She frowned and turned her pitiful, drunk gaze on me. “Right, Alara?”
Without missing a beat, I turned and gave her a huge smile. “Of course, sweetie.”
Momentarily placated, Naomi lay back down with a smile on her face as she sang a few verses of Taylor Swift’s “Shake It Off.” I turned around to find Sherry mock glaring at me.
“That”—she paused as she pointed her finger at our very inebriated friend—“is not helping. And for the record, I don’t feel guilty at all.”
I rolled my eyes. “You never feel guilty for anything,” I hollered as I headed into the kitchen.
Stepping inside our kitchen was always like being transported back to the 1950s. Naomi begged me to let her decorate, and after going through many options, I agreed to her I Love Lucy inspired design. We had the requisite turquoise 1950s-style range and fridge, as well as vintage utensils, and striped papered walls. I felt the immediate need to throw on an apron and some pearls and get dinner ready in time for my “hard-working” husband to come home.
Despite the depressing image of being stuck in a kitchen all day, it was still my favorite room in our apartment. It represented a time when women were repressed while paradoxically representing Naomi’s refusal to conform. It exemplified her refusal to have a “normal” anything, even in the face of people’s very vocal qualms. Mainly Derek’s and Caleb’s. This was probably the only thing they ever agreed on.
I crossed the room to the only modern part of our kitchen, the area we housed anything and everything related to coffee and wine. In the far corner, we had a Keurig single-cup coffeemaker and dozens of different K-cups littering the counter, a four-bottle wine and glass holder mounted on the wall, and an open-faced box housing all the accompanying accessories.
Okay, so this also might have been part of the reason why the kitchen was my favorite room. I liked my coffee and wine. Sue me.
I’d just grabbed a wineglass and the corkscrew when an already familiar voice sounded behind me.
“Lucy, I’m home.”
Laughing, I turned around to find Gabe picking up the wine I bought and walking it over to me. He handed me the bottle before leaning against the opposite counter.
“You know, I always think the same thing whenever I come in here.”
“Where the hell did you guys even get these things?” he asked, motioning toward the range and fridge.
“I have no clue. This was all Naomi’s doing.” And at a certain point, you stop asking questions, because they will always outnumber the answers.
He nodded and continued his perusal of the kitchen as an awkward silence descended over us. Gabe didn’t seem to notice or care, further highlighting my awkwardness with the opposite sex. I played with the rings on my fingers for several seconds before I abruptly turned around and grabbed the corkscrew again. I quickly filled two glasses before handing one over to him.
“Thanks,” he said as he took a sip. After a couple of silent minutes, he spoke again. “Naomi’s right, you know.”
“About?” I asked right as I brought the glass up to my lips.
“Sex is pretty great.” He smiled as he looked at me over his glass.
I’d barely gotten the wine down before I started coughing. Gabe laughed as he stood closer and patted me on the back. As I felt my cheeks burn for the umpteenth time, I mentally started calculating all the money I’d save on blush if my body kept this up.
“Are you okay?” I jumped when I felt his breath on my ear and his hand resting on my elbow.
“Yep, I’m great,” I said as I stepped out of his grasp and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. I could feel his eyes on me, but I refused to look at him, which meant I practically inhaled the water. There were only a few sips left when he spoke again.
“Was that too weird to say since we hardly know each other?” His voice was laced with insecurity and unease, and I immediately felt guilty. Despite the outcome, he was clearly just trying to alleviate my awkwardness with a joke.
I cleared my throat and shrugged before pouring myself more wine.
He nodded thoughtfully. “I was just joking. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I sleep around…” He trailed off and coughed awkwardly before starting again. “I’ve actually only ever had one girlfriend.”
“Really?” After his solemn nod, I asked him what happened.
“Life.” His jaw ticked as he took a sip. “We grew apart when…” Gabe shook his head as he trailed off, and even though I wanted to know what the when was, I knew I wouldn’t get an answer if I asked tonight. “We wanted different things. I ended up leaving for Europe a few days after we broke up, and when I was there, I hooked up a little. But it wasn’t what I thought it’d be. I guess after we broke up, I just wanted something different. I’d never been single before, and I didn’t want to worry about settling down. I just wanted to have fun and be normal. But that didn’t work out so well.” His eyes met mine, and he gave me a small smile.
“What makes being in a relationship abnormal?” I asked, teetering on the edge between hope and fear.
“Nothing. It was just all I’d ever known. At the time, I was going through something difficult, and I wanted to be someone different; I thought that was the way of going about it. But I guess that’s not how real life works.”
We were quiet for a few minutes as we both thought his words over. But I already knew what I wanted to say. Because this kind of stuff I could talk about. Weird, deep, philosophical life crap I could go on about all damn day. It was the weather or the new movie coming out or that kind of “easy” stuff that I had trouble discussing.
I took a deep breath and moved my body slightly toward him. “I think real life works however you want it to. I guess the only question is… what do you want?”
“Oh, is that all?” he asked wryly, like figuring out what we wanted out of life was the hard part. He tried to make it a joke, but it fell flat along with his laugh.
I didn’t say any more because I didn’t really agree.
We knew what we wanted out of life; that was never the problem. People were the problem. People telling us we couldn’t. We shouldn’t. We’d fail. It’s wrong. It’s not normal.
We knew what we wanted. We just didn’t know how to say what we wanted. And we knew who we were. We were just afraid to be who we were.