Page 124 of Like You Want It
I let out a pained gasp, my hand clutching at my chest. I shake my head, not wanting to believe what he’s saying, but knowing in my heart that it’s true.
“Oh my god, Fin. I can’t imagine…”
“No. Youcan’t.You’ll never know what it’s like to plan for a baby, then lose a baby, to grieve a child… that never fucking existed.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “Fin, I amsosorry.”
He’s silent for a moment, so I step forward, resting my hand on his where it grips the countertop. And I pray for the right words. Any words. Something to say that can help him right now as he relives this horrible pain from his past.
“I wish there was something I could do…” I trail off, knowing those words are meaningless. Knowing that I can never offer him enough.
“There isn’t,” he supplies, letting out a breath, his anger leaving him in a rush. He grabs his head with his hands and closes his eyes. “There’s nothing anyone can do. I just have to live with this. Accept it. And move on.”
“But you’re not moving on,” I say. “You’re closing yourself off from people who care about you because one person betrayed you. And as painful as I’m sure that was, it’s going to be even more painful to continue to live a life on your own.”
He shakes his head, his eyes narrowing. “You act like you know so much. Like you’ve got all the answers wrapped up in neat little bows and inspirational quotes. But I hate to break it to you, Carly. You can’t fix all of life’s problems with a smile and a well-phrased quote about happiness and fucking rainbows. Sometimes, pain is just pain that you have to deal with.”
I take a step back, pull my hand away from his. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Isn’t it? Isn’t that how you ‘fix’ all your problems?” he says, using air quotes to tell me just what he thinks about my problem solving skills. “You just smile and carry on. Slap up some Instagram post about positive attitudes when you’ve really solved nothing.”
My eyes drop to the floor.
I don’t even know how to respond in this moment. To a man so angry about his life that he’s turning that laser focus on me. A man who sharpens the knives that he was stabbed with by a woman who hurt him, then decides to use them to pick at the scabs left from my own past.
“That’s what you think?” I finally breathe out, my eyes looking back to find his face carefully blank. “That I’m incapable of solving my problems? That I pretend I’m happy when I’m not?”
He stays silent as I grab my purse off the island and loop it around my chest.
“You know, everyone in my life seems to have an issue with the fact that I’m a happy person. That I can see the positives in every situation, even the ones that shouldn’t have any. And even though you and I started off shaky, I never thought you’d be one of them.”
I loop my car keys around my fingers, squeezing hard until the metal pinches my skin.
“Did it ever occur to you that I try to stay happy and positiveforthe people around me? That my goal is to help others? It has nothing to do with me. I go to therapy to deal with my stress and my upset and my anger. I talk it out, work through it, try to leave no stone unturned. And then I take the fucking smile that God gave me and I turn that light into the world because I know that some people have lives much darker and scarier than mine. It isn’t about being fake or ignoring problems or pretending everything is okay. It’s about the fact that I want the people I know to be as happy as they fucking deserve to be. And that includes you.”
He leans in. “Well I don’t need you worrying about my happiness or anything else about me. WhatIwant is to be left alone.”
“Clearly.”
It’s the last thing I say before I turn to the door and storm out, slamming the door behind me as I go.
«««« »»»»
An hour later, I sit at my kitchen table, a single chocolate cupcake in my hand.
When they sang to me earlier, they’d forgotten the candles. Dina pitched a fit when they finished singing and she realized that, in her haste to get the party started, she’d forgotten to put any candles on the cake.
“Don’t worry about it,” I’d said, smiling and laughing it off. “Twenty-four candles would have burnt the place down.”
But now, as I sit alone in my apartment, feeling lost and emotional and unsure, I decide I still want my birthday wish.
I stick the candle that I snagged from the kitchen into my cupcake and light it with the lighter that I keep in the ‘stuff drawer’ that everyone has somewhere in their house.
And then I close my eyes, and start to think about what I want to wish for.
It feels stupid to wish for some arbitrary romance with a man who seems to be afraid of his feelings. And it feels useless to wish for my family to be perfect or for my dad to suddenly be the encourager I’ve always wanted him to be.
Instead of using my wish to think about anyone else, I decide to be selfish. My wish on my twenty-fourth birthday is for myself. That I can figure out what I want in life, who I want to be, and then go after it. With or without fear. With or without rejection. With or without a man on my arm, or support from the people I love.
Because that’s the only way I’m going to find true happiness in this life.
And with that wish, I lean forward, and blow.
