Page 104 of Like You Want It
But here’s Carly, sweet as can be, advertising that she talks to someone regularly, and has done so for at least ten years, maybe longer.
“You look confused,” she says, piling a newly dried dish onto her completed stack and picking up a new one to dry.
I laugh. “I don’t know about confused. I guess I’m just… trying to understand why someone like you would need to go to a therapist. You seem fine.”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine is a misconception. Have you ever seenThe Italian Job?Do you know what FINE stands for? Freaked out. Insecure. Neurotic. Emotional. So if you wanna say I’m FINE? I’ll agree with you.”
I pick up the stack of plates as she finishes and tuck them into my cupboard.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do. Butappearingwell adjusted means nothing. I think everyone should go to a therapist. Or a psychologist or life coach or to someone who challenges you to think about things deeper, with more purpose and meaning. Otherwise, you might just coast through life, totally lost. That’s what I love about Misty. I felt really lost, and she helps me feel like I’m finding myself.”
I nod. “And who did you turn out to be?”
She grins, pleased with my question, but continues to wipe down dishes in silence for a moment.
“I’m still figuring that out.”
I nod, taking the next clean stack of dishes and putting them away.
“I did this exercise once that helped me pick words that I think represent who I am,” she continues. “Vibrant was one of them. Happy, another.”
“Oh, shocking.”
She giggles. “Vibrant, happy, genuine and content. Though I don’t really like the last one.”
“Why not? I thought finding contentment was one of those things everyone’s looking for.”
Carly sets a plate down, then turns and leans up against the counter. “Yeah, but people look for it at the end of their long, fulfilling lives. I’m almost twenty-four and I’m content. Does that mean I don’t ever want something better? Something more meaningful than just…” she shrugs, “working at a coffee shop for the rest of my life?”
“Ah,” I say, bobbing my head. “This is about what your family thinks.”
She casts her eyes downward.
“It’s okay to care what they think and still be true to yourself. Being content doesn’t mean you don’t want better things for your life. It just means you’re capable of enjoying what you have. Now. And that’s a great thing to be able to do.”
Her eyes flick up to mine. “Do you feel that way? About your life?”
I chuckle, uncomfortable. Grip the back of my neck.
Then I look her straight in the eye and shake my head. “Definitely not.”
“Why not?”
I shrug. “A lot of things. I just had a very different picture for what my life was going to look like…” My chest pinches tight and I break off at the end. But then I just shake my head again. “I don’t really want to get into it. But I guess I’m still trying to figure out what I want.”
We watch each other for an agonizingly long time, after that. In silence.
Until finally, Carly breaks it.
“So, Susie is gonna sleep here tonight?” she asks, lifting herself up onto my kitchen island, her legs dangling over the edge.
I let out a breath, forcing my mind to switch off the previous direction my thoughts were going. Towards what happened years ago and how it still lances through me whenever it crosses my mind. Instead, I choose to be present and focused on what’s happening right now.
“That’s my guess. She fell asleep in the guest room at least an hour ago. Maxie’s in there with her, curled up at her feet, the traitor.”
She giggles.
