Page 112 of Love Medley
At the same time, I can’t help but think…this is better. This is how it should be. Jake shouldn’t be saddled with me. He shouldn’t have to deal with my mess.
I’m impulsive, and I make bad calls. Look at Peter and Weston.
And like Jake said, the death knell for us is this—I can never, ever go against my parents’ wishes.
That’s why I can’t ever make Jake truly happy and secure…the way that he does me.
He deserves someone to choose him.
I’m not sure how long I lie curled up in the fetal position. I’ve never cried this much in my life; my face is swollen and hot to the touch. Hours go by, the sun goes up and down, and I barely even realize it’s night.
I finally stagger out of bed to get some water. As I glance blearily around my apartment, I realize Jake has embedded himself into every aspect of my life. Everything here now reminds me of him, not Weston, which is nothing short of a miracle.
The bed where we made love. The couch where he stroked my hair as we talked. The stove where he cooked me dinner and the glass table where we ate.
He’s made my space feel safe again.
Jake has filled me with joy and happiness, and how did I reward that? By tearing him down and making him feel small, just like the worst people in his life.
I, Lucy Chang, am just as big of an asshole as my mother, his dad, and Sterling.
That knowledge rips me apart.
How can we possibly come back from this? Even though I wish I could take the words back, they were true. Iambad at making decisions. And what happened with Peterismy fault. Idohave familial responsibilities that drag me down.
Ones that will never allow me to choose Jake like I want to.
But I know that I’ve hurt him, and the thought of him in agony over what I’ve said and done to him…I deserve this pain.
Just then, my phone lights up with the number of Peter’s alcoholic rehab center.
Finally. I’ve left so many messages, but this is the first time Peter’s calling me back.
“Hello?” My voice sounds like I’m a chain smoker.
“Hey, Luce.” It’s Peter. His voice sounds warm and healthy. He hasn’t sounded like this… ever. I’ve never wanted to be his “big sister.” I just want my big brother back. The reversal of roles has not been good for either of us.
“Hey.” I try to perk up, but my tone comes out flat and devoid of emotion.
“Are you… okay? You sound rough.”
To my surprise, instead of focusing on him and his recovery like I usually do, I burst into tears. “It’s all my fault, Peter, it’s all my fault.”
“What do you mean?”
Between sobs, I tell him about Jake. About how I’ve fallen in love with him, but how we weren’t meant to be. And how I’m at fault just like I was when I failed Peter so long ago. “I’m so, so sorry, Peter,” I wail. “If I hadn’t asked you to go to that stupid concert, you wouldn’t be struggling now.”
To my surprise, there’s a pause and then suddenly laughter. Not a mean kind of laughter, but a booming, rich-sounding laughter full of life. If Peter hadn’t sounded so wonderful, I would have started yelling at him for being a jerk. “This isn’t funny, Peter,” I say, but I’m startled to find I’m smiling despite my tears.
“Lucy. Dear God. Sister of my heart. You are a darling, sweet person. And you know I adore you, right?”
Oh boy. This isn’t a good start. “Um, yes?” I say suspiciously.
“But what I’m going through—it has nothing to do with you, okay? Look. That night was terrible, I agree. And yes, maybe, I was swayed a little bit by an annoying little sister who wouldn’t leave me alone about a dumb concert. But sis, I do make my own decisions, and as far as I know, I’ve always been three years older than you—I knew better. I chose to drink that night. And I chose to drive inebriated like a dumbass. Did you ever stop to think about how muchIwas at fault? Way more than you, that’s for sure. I could have killed you that night because of my idiocy. I could have killed both of us!”
I blink. While everything Peter is saying is true, it’s harder than I expect to let go of my own regret, my own shame. “But our parents were so much harder on you than me. I should have convinced them it was my fault. They wouldn’t have been as rough on you!”
“Our parents don’t understand me. They never have and probably never will. And again, that’s not on you. Nothing you could ever do or say would convince them to allow me to be my own person. I was self-destructive, and yes, they were a big part of that. But the decisions I’ve made in my life are on me. I’m learning how to take ownership of them and deal with the repercussions of those choices. But that’s my problem, not yours.”
