Page 59 of Fake Engaged to the Enemy

“That doesn’t make your pain less real,” I say gently. “And I know that I’m not exactly a safe place for you, but if you ever need to talk, I can be here for you. Okay?”

Katherina nods, fresh tears pooling in her eyes. “Thanks.”

***

That evening, I go to the tide pools.

So much heavy emotion keeps hitting me, I’m starting to feel like a whack-a-mole.

The pools are the most peaceful place I can think of to visit.

I bring my notebook again, but rather than making lists I sit on the edge of the pool and stare out to the ocean.

I have a lot of good memories here.

Though Sandburrow is home to the worst memories of my life, these pools are a place where I’ve always found peace.

In my mind’s eye, I see Grandma relaxing nearby while George and I play around the pools.

I see us discovering sea stars above the tideline and rushing back and forth to put them into the ocean.

I see us building sandcastles.

I see myself, sitting alone here in this very spot. Making lists. Listening to music. Crying.

There was a lot of crying.

And when I think about it, so many of those tears were shed for things that I can’t remember.

In my mind, they’re all because of something June did.

Except when it was because of George.

Like when prom was coming up. And he gave me a letter and I was certain it was an invite to the dance.

Spoiler alert: it wasn’t.

It was a letter from his mother to Grandma about the school bake sale.

That was a heartbreak of my own making.

I refused to talk to George for two days.

I wince when I think about that. I blamed him for so much when the truth of it was, that I just didn’t communicate.

It’s easy to be hard on my younger self looking back. But I know she was just doing the best she could. She was acting in the ways her mother taught her to.

Grandma tried her best with me. But one person’s love can’t erase the indifference of another’s.

My mind turns back to George, and my last words to him.I don’t want to be loved.

It’s a lie.

I want to be loved.

When I think about George, I think of his smile and his kindness. My heart flutters. The few kisses spark through my mind.

There’s something about him.

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