I fought the urge to vomit.
For years, I’d been cramming myself into perfect glass slippers, but now the magic had worn off. Once everyone knew of my failure, they’d realize I wasn’t the success I’d been pretending to be.Maybe a girl who squeezed into Cinderella’s shoes and fooled a prince didn’t even deserve a Happily Ever After.
Will moved from an animated discussion about the country club to one of his other favorite topics: our future. “Courtney’s up for this great new promotion at work,” he was saying. “Senior marketing director.”
He went on to talk about things like Roth IRAs and early retirement, and I tried not to dwell on why talking about our life made me feel so lifeless. At twenty-five, I was definitely old enough that I should enjoy participating in boring adult conversations, yet the topic of retirement made me feel like a clueless little kid and like I was ninety years old all at once.
As everyone started going around the table, sharing what they were thankful for—yachts, vacation homes, expensive handbags—I scrutinized their smiling faces. Sometimes, most times, I felt distanced from everyone, as though my body were just a sim in a game that I was controlling from very far away. My life didn’t feel like my own, but someone’s idea of what a life should be. I wondered if anyone else felt as lost as I did.
It was like I blinked, and someone thrust this whole life on me that I’d somehow committed to seeing through, even though I never remembered choosing it. I picked a path, thinking I could figure out specifics later, only later was now, and I’d already gone too far to turn back.
I looked at my aunts, cousins, and parents, all at different points on the same sort of road I’d been pushing myself down. The younger ones were full of fire and hope. The older ones leaned back in their chairs with pride, like they’d really accomplished something, when I knew for a fact Uncle Lenny had three stress-related heart attacks in two years, my cousin Dina had a drinking problem, and my grandfather never took a vacation because he planned on enjoying life once he was retired, but he’d been spending his entire retirement in that urn on the mantel.Everyone was comparing achievements, and they were asking me about mine, and everything became too loud.
But then Will stirred beside me. Before I could ask what he was doing, he stood. Time slowed as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a little black box.
He dropped to his knee.
My ears rang, muffling the delighted exclamations from everyone else in the room.
Once again, my future was here, and once again, I was too far in to turn back.
My vision went dark around the edges. I’d read an article once that said Olympic athletes convinced themselves the feeling they got in the pit of their stomachs before an event was simply excitement, not nerves, seeing as the two emotions felt so similar.
That twisting knot in the bottom of my belly wasexcitement.
In the corners of my eyes, my family’s smiles seemed to close in, twisting grotesquely as though distorted by fun house mirrors. I couldn’t breathe. Except it wasn’t the breathlessness of a blushing bride-to-be. It was the breathlessness of someone dying. This was the life I’d always wanted, and yet the thought of accepting it made me feel as though my life was slipping away.
I sprang to my feet. “I got fired yesterday!” I yelled.
A collective gasp rose from the dining table.
“I’ll talk to your supervisor,” Will said after a pause, jumping into fix-it mode. “With my connections, I’m sure we can work something out. And if not, we’ll polish up your résumé and get you back out there. Everything will be fine.”
With a jolt, I realized my employment status was to Will what the turkey was to my mother. Neither sawme. Iwas the thing that wasn’t fine.
The thought of beginning another job search made me want to hide under a quilt and sleep for the next thousand years. But would they even still love me if I wasn’t turkey-loving, perfectly fine girlboss Courtney?
“What if I don’t want to get back out there?” I whispered, staring at that black box looming between us.
Dead silence.
Worst of all, slowly,slowly, Will shut the lid on that little black box.
I guessed I had my answer.
Fairy tales weren’t real. Unicorns were a myth, evil didn’t always lose, and trolls only existed on the Internet, but true love…
Well. I’d always assumed it existed.
But if that was true, why did Will shut that box after finding out his princess was a pauper?
He’s just saving the proposal for later, some rational part of my brain tried to assure me.You’re the one who ruined the moment.After we had time to talk it out, he’d propose again, surely. It wasn’t like closing that box meant he was kicking me out of his metaphorical castle.
Probably.
I couldn’t take the silence anymore.
So I ran away. Out the front door. Into the yard.
