Page 12 of This Life and All the Rest
Sam hums but doesn’t say anything. She understands. I’m sure she can imagine how much my skin is crawling. With each step out of June, my uneasiness grows.
I just need to get back to Paris.
Thankfully, Sam throws a new topic my way, and my chest tightens for a different reason.
“So, have you seen Evelyn?”
I purse my lips for a moment before responding.
“Yeah. She’s afraid of me.”
I sigh. Macon was right about one thing: it’s my own fault. The way she clung to him in my presence made me want to cry. She feels safe around him, and I’m just a stranger.
“Well, maybe staying at Andrea and Trent’s will give you some time to get to know her,” Sam says, giving me hope. “She just needs to be around you some more. She’ll warm up to you. Babies are easy. Throw some snacks at it and wave some toys around, and you’ll be the favorite in no time.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Sam turns the radio back on and we finish the drive in silence. I’m in my head, and she lets me stay there, instinctively knowing what I need.
It was weird at first, my relationship with Sam. I’d never had a friendship that felt so natural.
I’d never felt like an equal with Claire. It was a one-sided relationship. I was always bending and compromising. I was subject to her whims, her emotions, and she never gave me space.
With Sam, it’s the exact opposite. We accept each other. We don’t try to make one another something we’re not, and we fill in each other’s cracks as needed.
I glance at her profile.
Her blonde hair is highlighted and styled to perfection. She’s got black and gold Gucci sunglasses shading her eyes and diamond studs adorning her ears, and she’s mouthing the words to the song playing through the speakers of her custom BMW coupe.
If you’re going off appearance alone, you’d never guess that she’s one of the most selfless, caring people I’ve ever met. She doesn’t care at all about labels or material things; she’s just playing a role until she doesn’t have to anymore.
And that is why we click.
For years, I was the same. Playing the roles I was cast in just for the convenience of everyone else.
Thenicegirl. Thepolitegirl. Thego with the flow to avoid confrontationgirl. The dutiful daughter. The supportive friend. The doormat girlfriend.
The day I decided to sayfuck itand live only the life I chose, as the person I wanted to be, was liberating. I said goodbye to Lennon, hello to Capri, and no one in Europe knew me as anything different. I was able to cultivate an entirely new version of myself seamlessly, and it was exactly what I needed.
I want that so badly for Sam. I want her to shed the persona that’s been forced onto her and finally show everyone the person she is on the inside.
Soon, she tells me.
And if I know her, I know she’s going to sayfuck itin an epic fashion.
FOUR
England, 4 Years Earlier
Aunt Beccaand I get back to her house late.
We spent the whole day at Franco’s. He gave me a welding lesson, then some friends of his and my aunt came by, and we made dinner. It was a nice day, marginally lightening the load of bricks that have been sitting on my chest for the past three weeks.
I reach up and run my hands through my now short hair. It’s still jarring, and several times today, I almost regretted it. I almost unblocked everyone’s numbers and sent more emails, too. I still might. I keep wavering between confident strength and fearful weakness.
I love my aunt Becca. I appreciate her friends. But in quiet moments like this one, where I’m left vulnerable to my own thoughts, my loneliness threatens to swallow me.
I’m so fucking scared.
