Page 121 of The Moon Also Rises
It feels so strange to be having such a thing now after all we’ve done together, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. It feels almost poetic that it will be on our first date that I ask him to be my boyfriend.
Because how can I not?
I can’t deny how different I’ve been feeling all week since I finally opened up about my debt to someone, to Rami. It’s like someone has turned on a long forgotten and broken light in my brain and I am now able to see things more easily than before. Of course, what I see still looks like an almighty mess; my debt is still there, everywhere. But now I have a new clarity of mind to deal with it. And most surprisingly of all, I am dealing with it.
On Sunday morning after Rami left to spend the day with his family and while Jenna and Marty were still asleep, I created a spreadsheet and entered in all the various debts I owed. I went through every single statement and got all the debt out of my head and out of my shoebox of shame and into that spreadsheet. It wasn’t pretty, and the final total was actually more than I expected, but it felt freeing to at least know it now. To know the dark truth and to still be breathing after the shock and shame had faded.
On Monday, during my lunch break, I called a debt consolidation service and scheduled a phone call with an advisor for the following day.
On Tuesday, after the call with the advisor, who was perfunctory and efficient in a way I appreciated, I went to my therapist appointment. I told Anita about my debt and I cried a thousand more tears, but she didn’t look at me any differently. It seems she can be impressively immoveable about all my issues equally which is as comforting as it is ridiculous.
On Wednesday, after work, I created a new spreadsheet and mapped out a budget that would help me make those monthly repayments, while also putting a little bit of money aside for savings, something the financial advisor told me was still important.
By Thursday, I finally felt ready to take the next step and so after dinner, I got my wallet out and chopped up all of my credit and store cards. I took a photo of their colourful fragments and sent it to Rami and his reply had been worth all my hard work that week to get to that point.
On Friday, yesterday, I celebrated a week of homemade lunches by treating myself to my first take-away coffee in seven days and I swear it tasted richer because of the wait.
It’s not all been plain sailing. I’ve had many moments where the panic has crawled up my body and almost claimed me. When I think of having to explain to friends why I can’t go out for dinner as often as I’d like, my breath stalls. When I think about telling Jenna about my debt, my throat tightens. When I think about not being able to cheer myself up with a little designer treat here and there, my skin feels taut across my chest. But all these fears and all those threats of panic are minor inconveniences compared to the heavy weight I now know I was carrying around by keeping my debt a secret.
Facing my debt has made me feel brave. Making plans to deal with it and release its hold on me has made me feel like I can do scary and impossible things. Sharing my truth with Rami has made me realise how beautiful and hopeful life can be when you share it with someone, even the hardest parts.
So that’s what I’m going to try and do. I’m going to try and share my life, with Rami.
“You look a million miles away,” a wonderfully familiar voice pulls me back from staring out at the rising and fall of the Thames out the window.
“Hi,” I say and I just know from the stretch across my face that I’m beaming up at him as if he’s the first day of sunshine after a long dark winter.
Jesus, Jake. It’s been a week.
I stand then and step to the side of the table, but before I get closer I feel frozen by uncertainty. Do we kiss? Do we hug? Do we shake hands? Or do we just sit down?
Rami decides for me by stepping in close and bringing one hand around my waist and the other to cup my jawline. He leans in close and nudges the tip of his nose against mine.
“I missed you,” he says, his breath dancing on my lips.
I close my eyes and don’t even try to hide the tremble that now runs up my spine.
“I missed you too,” I say when he pulls back.
God, I really, really hope he wants to give this a go too.
After sitting back down we make small talk about his trip and as he talks, explaining how the event went well but not without a few last-minute glitches, I see tiredness in small shadows under his eyes and the way his smile doesn’t quite claim his whole face like it usually does.
“And how was your week?” he asks after we place our orders with one of the restaurant staff.
“Oh, you know, same old, same old. Sorted out my life. Spoke to a financial advisor. Consolidated my debts and made a payment plan that may see me debt free by the time I’m seventy. Nothing special.”
Rami stretches his hand across the table and takes mine. “Have I told you how proud I am of you, Jake?”
“Only a few times, but I could always hear it more. You know how shy and unassuming my ego is.” I flutter my eyelashes at him and that gets me an eye-crinkling grin.
“So, I was hoping we could talk,” Rami says after that smile fades a little quicker than I’d like.
Trying not to read too much into that, I open my mouth ready to say everything I want to say before I talk myself out of it. But then a waiter appears with our drinks and that pulls us away from the moment, not least because he brings over two glasses of wine when we only ordered one. Rami starts to insist that I should keep it as my second glass but I protest that I don’t want to drink more than one – although he doesn’t yet know it’s because I want to stay sober for what feels like the most important conversation of my life – and then the waiter suggests he leaves it for Rami in case he changes his mind, which Rami scoffs at and bluntly asks for the glass of wine to be taken away.
“Sometimes I think the universe is trying to make me drink,” he says after the waiter leaves, and I have never heard Rami sound so tense or uptight.
