Page 9 of In the Long Run
‘If I had my way, I’d never let it go.It’s my favourite place in the world.But nothing lasts forever, no matter how much you wish it could.’
In the end, it’s that simple: I have to find a way to save Alizée’s.Make it back into what it was for Eugene.I’ll never make up the debt I owe him, but this would be a start.
It’s what a good person would do.
And that’s all I’ve ever wanted: to prove I can be a good person too, despite what happened when I was younger.
4
GEN
I should’ve expected this.
‘I thought you’d want to know,’ my sister, Meredith, says, her tired voice coming through my AirPods clearly.While my day is approaching mid-afternoon, Mere’s is closer to dinner.She runs all the early classes at Get Fit, Get Strom, the gym she and her husband, Bernie, own a few blocks from my flat.And yes, they named it after themselves, loving how similar their surname is to the word ‘strong’.
‘But … but …’ I splutter, looking down at the overflowing shopping basket in my hands as if the answer to my mother’s lunacy is hiding underneath the shiny red apples I like to snack on.Or maybe there’s a prepackaged bag of commonsense lurking among my tins of ethically sourced tuna.
‘Still there?’Meredith asks.
‘I said I didn’t want a party – and certainly not a surprise party.’I distinctly remember all the conversations we’ve had about this because it’s hard to forget something that’s been happening weekly for the last six months.Mum’s someone who likes to celebrate every little thing, and I love thatfor her.The way she chooses to find joy in tiny, mundane details that others often overlook – like when she finally sourced the right birdbath for the front yard and we had a dinner to celebrate it – is admirable.But when it’s foisted on me?Hard pass.
‘She thinks you have a thing about turning thirty.’
I have athingabout being the centre of attention.I have athingabout being told – with actions, not words, usually, but still – that I’m falling behind.I have athingabout being thrown a pity party.
I trudge down the juice aisle, looking for the specials.Real juice is another thing that’s recently fallen into the ‘occasional treat’ category because the only types I can currently afford don’t contain any ingredients from the fruit category of the food pyramid.
‘Why would she do this?’I ask a bottle of Brekkie Juice that’s half price.
Meredith laughs lightly and it’s nice to hear her sounding happy after everything she and Bernie have been through lately, even if it is at my expense.Last month she confided in me that they were hitting pause on IVF treatments and taking a break for a couple of months.
‘Really?’
My groan is loud enough to attract the attention of an older man several metres away.I lower my voice.‘Is this about Brand or …’
‘The Man We Do Not Speak Of?’Mere asks.
Sadly, bad boyfriend choices are nothing new for me.Brand’s still being a pain in the ass, sure, but the guy before him who set me on this new life trajectory?The one sponsored by ramen noodles and no-brand everything?My skin still smarts when I think about Tim.Spoiler alert: all the advice to never date your boss exists for very good reasons, but Gen-of-the-past didn’t know that.It’s so true that you learn something from every relationship, because Tim taught me that with certain people, you can’t have Dr Jekyll without Mr Hyde.I just didn’t realise it until everything blew up in my face.
‘She doesn’t even know what really happened with that jackass,’ Mere says.‘Mum’s still confused about why you dumped Brand.She wants you to be happy, and to her that means being hopelessly in love with the perfect man.’
I add the Brekkie Juice to my basket and head towards the rice aisle.God forbid I choose to be content on my own.‘But Iamhappy.’
Compared to where I was a year ago, I’m ecstatic.I’m not stuck in a job I hate, working for the man who ruined everything.Brand will eventually get the message or find someone new and shiny to fixate on.I’m building a new life.One that’s just mine.Business is slower than I’d like but it’s growing.Yesterday I had an enquiry from the bookstore next door to Get Fit, Get Strom.It’s not hard to figure out who recommended me, but I’ll take what I can get at the moment and be grateful.And at least with Mere giving me the heads up, I might be able to convince Mum this party is a bad idea.
Why is society so uncomfortable with people who choose to be on their own anyway?Based on my previous dating experiences, there isn’t a single thing a man can give me that I can’t give myself.Case in point: the orgasm I had after Caleb left for work last night, when I didn’t have to stress about him hearing any buzzing through the wall that separates our bedrooms.
I’m doing fine on my own.
Knox’s navy eyes materialise in my mind.The way his pupils had dilated, how tenderly he’d cupped my jaw when I’d thought we were about to kiss.I’d wanted so much more from him, and the sting of his rejection lingers.
‘She means well,’ Mere says.
‘I know.’I pick up a bag of brown rice and toss it into my basket, not caring if it squashes the cheap loaf of multigrain that’s best as toast.Not that I’m complaining.Skimping on my groceries means I can afford coffees from Alizée’s and a weekly takeaway meal.A girl’s got to have priorities.
‘But that’s not all,’ Meredith says as I turn down the toiletries and personal hygiene aisle.Tampons are the last thing on my list, because the universe loves to kick me when I’m down.
Hefting the basket so it balances against my hip, I raise one hand and pinch the bridge of my nose.‘What else is there?’I ask, already imagining that Mum’s done something ridiculous like make it a black-tie event.These days I consider wearing pants that have a zip, not an elastic waist, dressing up.
