Page 64 of Taming Georgia

I tell her to try again, and she puts more money in. This round, she’s careful to run away from the ghosts and not toward them.

“There’s a bunch of cherries!” She steers clear of the fruit. “Do you think they’re bombs or something?”

“Maybe, but I kind of feel like cherries are good for you.”

“I think they’re going to kill me, just like the ghosts.” She jerks her hand against the controller to move quickly away from a group of ghosts in pursuit. “Shoot, the only way to get past the ghosts is to go through the cherry.”

“Well, try it.”

She steers Ms. Pac-Man through the cherries, and points pop up.

“Oh! It gave me more points! Yay! What do I do with the points? Shit!” She sighs as she dies in the game. “Stupid ghosts.”

“Maybe we should Google the rules to the games before playing?” I suggest.

“No way. That’s cheating. We need to find out just like we would’ve had we played these games in the ’80s.”

“We weren’t alive in the ’80s,” I remind her.

“That’s true, but I’m sure there were still arcades around in the ’90s, too. Weren’t there?”

“I could Google it.” I arch an eyebrow.

“We’re so lame.” She giggles. “All right, your turn.”

We make our way through the arcade, playing any of the games that look fun. We make up rules that probably have nothing to do with how the game is actually played.

“Look, there’s a princess and a giant monkey. I think you need to rescue her,” Georgia tells me as my little man climbs a ladder. “Watch out for the suitcases he’s throwing at you. I’m pretty sure those will kill you.”

“Why would he throw suitcases at me? I think they’re oxygen tanks. They look like the ones you use scuba diving.”

“Why would he throw oxygen tanks at you?” she asks.

“Maybe they blow up?”

“They’re barrels,” a guy next to us says dryly.

Georgia and I both look toward him, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of the screen of the game he’s playing.

I shrug and turn back to the game. “What do you think those things are in between the ladders? A fire extinguisher?”

“Or a light switch that he needs to turn on? I bet the monkey hates light,” Georgia suggests. “Oh, or a bomb. Maybe you should avoid those, too, to be safe.”

“It’s a hammer, and you want it,” the dude next to us mumbles, causing us both to laugh.

We’re clearly not Donkey Kongexperts. Heck, there’s not a game in here that Georgia and I know how to play. Yet, oddly enough, I’m having fun. I find myself laughing more than I ever remember doing.

I don’t know when exactly I turned into such a moody asshole. I don’t recall always being this way. I was different when I was younger, when hope still existed in my heart. But somewhere along the line, I changed. Perhaps it was gradual, or maybe it wasn’t. All I know is that I don’t have any memories of feeling this light, this happy. Being with Georgia stirs up all of these emotions that I thought I was incapable of experiencing.

Life has a way of jading a person. Then, a door is opened, and a breath of fresh air enters, filling my lungs for the first time.

When she walked into my office for the first time a couple of months ago, I thought I would choke on the stubborn resentment that I held toward her. I was beside myself with rage, wondering why this girl who had caused me so much grief was coming back into my life.

She was even more attractive than she had been in high school—the quintessential girl next door with her rocking body, long and wavy blonde hair, and doe blue eyes that are a mix between ocean and sky blue. She was too gorgeous for her own good. I hated her for being beautiful. I hated her for hurting me. I hated her for coming back.

It’s pretty pathetic that my own obstinate rage blinded me to what was standing right in front of me the entire time. She’s always been kind. Georgia’s always been exactly what I needed her to be, but I couldn’t see her because I was blinded by self-loathing and sadness.

I realize now that Georgia’s my air. She gives me oxygen, allowing me to breathe in deep for the first time. I didn’t even know I was suffocating in the first place, but I was.

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