Page 90 of Like You Want It
Maybeglassisn’t the right word. Probably more likechalice.
Once I finish pouring the rest into mine and we head over to the couch, both of us squishing into opposite corners and sticking out our legs to get comfy, I turn on the TV and start fiddling with all of the remotes to get the settings right.
“Can I ask you something?” she says, and I glance over, seeing a contemplative look on her face.
“Absolutely, though depending on what the question is, you might not like the answer. For example, if you ask me whether I like Ryan Gosling, you’re going to be incredibly upset with me when I tell you he’s completely overrated.”
She gasps, the mortification on her face clear. “Are you serious?”
I nod.
“What is wrong with you? I bet next you’re going to say you don’t like Taylor Swift.”
I give her a really huge cheesy grin and she slaps the armrest. “Shut up!”
I throw my hands in between us. “Don’t get mad. I bet there’s something out there that you despise that blows my mind, too.”
She thinks for a second. “I’ve never been able to understand the fascination withGame of Thrones. The books are so much better.”
“See, at first you had me. But then you mentioned the books and all you’re doing is ensuring that I know you’re a big fat nerd.”
There’s a pause, and then we both break into a tiny fit of laughter.
“But seriously,” I say, once we’ve both pulled ourselves back together, “ask whatever you want. I try to be an open book.”
She smiles, taking a slow sip of her wine. “You seem like it. It’s something I really admire. I’ve always been kind of closed off, not really wanting to share too much with other people.”
“You’ve shared a lot with me,” I argue.
“Yeah, but this is weird for me. Like, I told you about a lot within the first few weeks of us knowing each other. Apart from my family, I don’t have anyone else in my life that I share really personal things with.” She shrugs. “I’ve always just kind of held all that stuff in.”
My heart squeezes. It’s painful sometimes to imagine what Susie’s life was like, always feeling like the third wheel, the outsider, with no one to keep her secrets.
I’m such a social butterfly, and I know Susie and I are so different. She doesn’t find her happiness in human interaction. But she’s still a human, and her life is still significantly impacted by the relationships she has with others.
Or, for that matter, the relationships shedoesn’thave.
“You’re the only one who can decide who you trust with certain details of your life. It doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but you.” I say, then I lean forward and put my hand on her knee. “But I’m really thankful you decided to share your secrets with me.”
She bobs her head in agreement, a little smile creeping onto her face. Then she takes a sip of wine. A big one. Possibly a fortifying one.
“Do you think people can be forgiven for their mistakes? Likereallyforgiven. Not just the kind where you don’t bring it up anymore. Real forgiveness that doesn’t make you feel like your mistakes are looming over your head forever.”
I let my head rest on the couch cushion, thinking for a second. Because this is one of those questions people ask when they’re afraid the answer is something they won’t like.
“I think it depends on the person doing the forgiving, and what the mistake was. And, I guess, the person who made the mistake, too. I’ve been trying to forgive my dad and brother for always making me feel like I’m a mess. My dad doesn’t really seem to care that I’m bothered by his consistent need to let me know I’ve failed, but my brother cares. A lot.” I swirl my glass, watching the deep red liquid rise and fall, leaving behind streaky marks. “Caleb has apologized, and I see him actively choosing to love me better, treat me differently. So it’s easier to believe my brother will change and learn, while I don’t know if my dad ever will. So I think if you apologize, and the person forgives you, you have a chance to prove to them that their forgiveness isn’t being wasted. But if you mess that up, it’s a coin toss.”
She nods, her eyes focused on the TV, where Netflix is currently auto scrolling through a bank of images for recently watched movies.
“Is there a reason you’re asking me this?”
It takes her a minute to respond, but when she does, my heart pinches.
“I just wonder whether my family will ever be able to really forgive me for what I put them through. There have been a lot of uphill battles and problems that have seemed to come out of nowhere that I know stem from what happened with me.” She sighs. “And with what’s going on with Noah and Fin because of the Ashley situation, I wonder how our family is going to move forward is all. Whether or not forgiveness between all of us for the things we’ve done to each other… whether it’s really possible.”
I see the opportunity then, to prod. She’s an open book right now. I could probably ask about Fin, his life, his phone number, hooking up, maybe even the deal with this Ashley woman that keeps getting mentioned.
But it feels wrong.
