Page 7 of The Romantic Agenda
It had never reached such an extreme breaking point before, like it did with Caroline. Malcolm swears he doesn’t blame Joy for his relationship ending but she doesn’t believe him.
Summer being kept a secret is proof he does.
“Do you think that’s why he didn’t tell me about Summer? He’s worried I’ll ruin it again?”
“You didn’t ruin anythingbefore. It’s not just you. You played a hand, but it wasn’tyourgame, you know?” Grace shakes her head. “I really think it’s time you started trying to move on. It’s time to let him go.”
“I can’t. Meeting Malcolm that day was my one-in-a-million lucky shot. I’ll never find anyone else like him.”
“Then you at least need a break from him. Maybe this trip is a good idea. He wants you to spend time with Fox, so do it. See what it’s like to not devote almost every single second of your life to Malcolm.”
“It’s not every second. More like every third second.”
“Joy. You’ll never know what and who else is out there if you don’t try to find it. How much more of your life are you going to give up waiting around for him?”
Is she waiting? And is it truly so bad if she is?
Joy tries seeing the situation from Grace’s point of view. She wants her to try. Try what? Dating? How could replacing Malcolm with someone else possibly be the answer?
It’s not like she has a plethora of alternatives available to her. Eventhinkingabout trying to find someone else feels impossible. Her mom is notorious for trying to set her up with her friends’ sons, most of whom make it obvious sex is their first priority. If she’s good enough, thenmaybethey’ll want to get to know her after. Some dating apps don’t even have the option to choose asexual as an orientation. Not to mention that she’s thirty—a good percentage of single people her age have kids, and no offense... but no. Finding someone else seems highly unlikely to happen at this point. It’s too late. She waited too long. But she can’t tell Grace that.
“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know,” Joy says. “It really doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s not like I’m hurting anyone.”
“Except yourself,” Grace says.
In college, Joy was known astheparty girl in her dorm. Years and years ago, back when her knees didn’t hate her and her world didn’t revolve around a bullet journal.
Getting older isn’t bad—it’s insidious.
Slowly, she stopped drinking every kind of alcohol except for wine at dinner. No more going out every weekend. Her friends settled down. Spontaneous adventures turned into scheduled nights out. Before she knew it, she was thirty with a strict schedule that’s practically sacred and a nine-to-five job. Trading up from go-go dancer to corporate manager wasn’t a half-bad change to make, but Joy couldn’t even remember the last time she saw the inside of the nightclub during operating business hours. The only two-a.m. club she belongs to these days is run by anxiety-induced insomnia.
Being an adult went from creeping up on her to knocking her upside the head with little warning. One night, she realized that watching Netflix and going to bed at ten p.m. (no exceptions!) had become her life. And it was perfectly okay.
After a long peach-scented bubble bath, Joy selects a silk pajama short set in a deep burgundy color for bed. Her full-body skin care routine takes exactly seventeen minutes and she uses a satin headband around her edges to keep her hairline neat. Her braids are only a week old—she’s hoping they’ll last a full three before they need to be redone.
Usually by now, Malcolm has called to bother her or sent several good night texts in a row before giving up and calling her anyway. She keeps checking her phone, but there’s nothing. He’s waiting for her answer. She knows he is.
The added weight of his expectations sends her hurtling even faster into her internal depths. At times, she used to think he was rubbing it in her face—that he knew how she felt and kept trying to tell her without telling her it was never going to happen. Joy would never be one of the friends he wanted to jump then fall intomorewith. Friends like Summer are different fromher, like there’s a boundary she’s never going to see the other side of.
But that’s not Malcolm. In her heart, she knows he would never do something like that to her. They’re a perfect match on paper. It’s reality that keeps crumpling it and doing a trick shot straight into the garbage can.
Joy crawls into bed with Pepper, scrolling aimlessly through a streaming catalog until Julia Roberts’s exquisite smile catches her eye.My Best Friend’s Wedding. She remembers enough of the movie to know she’s never really seen it. She can’t recall the ending—if Julia’s character is successful in the end.
“This is going to bum us out,” she says to Pepper, who has already begun to snore. “Lightweight.”
The movie captures Joy’s attention immediately. Wide awake, she watches in rapt fascination as Julia’s character, Jules, executes every underhanded trick in the book to win her best friend so he’ll marry her instead.
“Michael’s chasing Kimmy. You’re chasing Michael. Who’s chasing you? Nobody. Get it?”
Joy instantly disintegrates into a puddle of sobs. God, that line lampooned her straight through the heart and yanked her back to the surface with deadly force.
Body racked with sobs, she covers her face with a pillow to muffle her misery. She hits the volume button, turning the movie up in hopes that her neighbors won’t hear her instead. “I knew watching this was a bad idea,” she says in a high-pitched whine. She’s sohurt. She’ll cry forever, or until her dehydrated body crumbles into dust. Whichever comes first.
Because that’s her life on the screen. The cool and flirty girl with impeccable fashion sense who’s in love with her best friend. She had almost been his best person at his wedding, standing by his side in a hideous purple dress because it was the right thing to do.
Because that’s what unconditional love meant.
Joy didn’tsettlefor friendship with Malcolm. She welcomed it, making a choice, and stood by it and him for ten years.
