Page 61 of Be Your Anything
My mother wasn’t pleased when I bought it, but it wasn’t up to her. She couldn’t fathom the idea that I’d want my independence, a little bit of freedom, when all she’s ever known is the home she grew up in with her family. She’d never been on her own until after the divorce, and when that happened, she went right back to my grandparents.
I shake my head at that thought, wondering why I see things so much differently than they do. Why I prefer to see the little cracks and crevices where I can exude my independence when my mother was so willing to go along with what the family wants from her.
Though really, I’m not much better than she was.
Sure, I can boast about buying a house and not living under my family’s roof, but I still went to the college that was selected for me, joined the sorority I was expected to, took a job my family wanted me to take. I attend the events they tell me to attend, follow the rules they’ve laid out for me, connect with the people they think are important.
So really, how independent am I?
I down the rest of my glass and wander inside, heading back downstairs to pour another for myself, hoping to drown out the way my brain and body are unable to relax.
The alcohol has given me a bit of a reprieve from the despair that has been clinging to my chest, tightening itself around my ribs. The tipsy feeling is giving me that warm glow that comes along with overindulging, and I so wish I could give in to that warmth, the sense of happiness and carefree joy that normally accompanies a night with my girlfriends and a few glasses of Château Pétrus.
But I can’t seem to let myself free-fall into the goodness.
Not when my mind can’t get past what happened tonight when Remmy and Lucas approached the table.
Together.
I take another long sip and shake my head.
Together.
Ofcoursethey’re going to be together, you idiot.They’ve beentogethersince sophomore year, since that summer when Remmy came back from her few years living abroad with her family, saying sexy things in Spanish and showing off those long legs that seemed to grow like lean branches.
I always wonder what would have happened if I’d been more honest—with Lucas, with myself. If I’d taken off the mask my mother taught me to wear and really showed him who I was…whether it would have made any difference.
What might have been different if I had just told him how I felt? How would things have turned out if I’d been willing to step out there and be honest,beforeRemmy?
But I guess that’s one of the downsides of being in my family. You don’t get to be honest just because you have something you think is important to say.
Everything comes with a side of family tradition.
Expectations. Limitations. Obligations.
I don’t get to be a woman of action. Not at my age.
So I kept my thoughts to myself, choosing instead to wait for things to sort themselves out.
But the truth is, I don’t want to be the person who has to slink to the corner because his girlfriend comes into town. I’d rather be the girlfriend.
But that’s not what a mistress does.
And while that might not be my official title, the shoe fucking fits. I’m not an idiot. I know what I am.
I’m the girl he hooks up with when he wants a warm place to rest his penis when his girlfriend is off doing god knows what with god knows who.
Part of me wants to make a joke. Something likeSure, it’s a hard job—wink wink—but somebody’s gotta do it.
But the other part of me wishes I wasn’t so fucking eager, so desirous of his attention and affection. Because really, that’s all I want.
His interest. His focus. His passion. I want his eyes on me. All the time. I want him to want me in bed with him. Underneath him. Beside him.
The hard part is convincing myself that having those things is enough, having the parts of him that can be closed off, behind doors and in secret, and not everything else he has to give.
Like his laughter, loud and boisterous when we’re out in public together. Or his hand, casually entwined with mine when we’re at an event.
Those seem like small things, but sometimes, small things can mean everything.
