Page 89 of Caught A Vibe

As I play, I search for the inherent structure behind the game. The decision-making trees are nuanced and intricate. I’m even more impressed. What would Penny think, playing this in two-player mode? I’d love to have her input as a former teenage girl. I wish I could ask her to play with me. I wish a lot of things.

By the end, I figure out how to keep the friends together and achieve the goal. My review practically flows from my fingers. I can’t wait for this game to find its target audience.

This is what I love. Being inspired by a new game and sharing that with the world. I don’t want a fancy title or retirement plan… Well, the retirement plan maybe and a decent salary, definitely, but the rest of the bells and whistles can fuck right off. I just want to make a living doing the work that brings me joy.

What would Penny say to that? She’d probably encourage me to chase my dreams. But would she mean it? In five years if I’m still freelancing, would she resent the instability?

Why am I even still wondering what Penny would say?

For fuck’s sake, I’m a mess. My entire life fits into ten boxes and two suitcases. And I still manage to leave my shit all over. She deserves a guy who can follow through, no matter what. A guy who sees her ambition and pushes her forward instead of pulling her off course. A guy who can bring more to the table than college debt, a stack of video games, and a comprehensive knowledge of local takeout spots. She deserves someone she doesn’t simply tolerate because they deliver good soup and excellent orgasms.

But I deserve to be more than tolerated too.

No. It is well and truly over. I drove away the best person that had ever walked into my life. I can’t fix it, because I can’tfixwho I am. I don’t want to. And she’d rather have sex than discuss our problems, and that’s not going to solve anything.

With my mother’s words echoing in my head, and a new understanding of our dynamic, I realize something for the first time in my adult life. I am worthy of love, just as I am. I deserve to be loved and supported by my person. My ADHD isn’t an illness or a burden. It’s simply how my brain functions in the world. It’s my superpower and my kryptonite.

I am worthy of love just as I am.

That truth blows the doors off my heart, leaving the tender bits exposed. But with my hard shell cracked, my belief in my own worth has room to grow. I believe, and for today that’s enough.

Chapter26

Penny

Ipull myself out of bed and sigh. How is it seven a.m. already? Every morning this week has been a struggle. Where has my energy gone? Callie jumps from her gargoyle perch on my bed frame onto my chest, the better to wake me with boops on the nose and disgruntled yowls. Why did I ever think that was cute?

I thought it was cute that she claimed Dash’s pillow as her throne too, until I realized it doesn’t smell like him anymore.

Shuffling to the kitchen, wearing only underwear and Dash’s T-shirt, I drop cereal in Callie’s bowl and cat food in mine. It’s not until I pour cold coffee into the water bowl that I catch my mistakes. Callie on caffeine? That would be a disaster!

Brewing a fresh pot of coffee is first thing on my list. Dash made excellent coffee. I push away the thought. I’ve been an independent woman for many years, perfectly capable of making my own coffee and feeding my own cat, although there’s an apparent order of operations there that I’ve neglected.

While Callie enjoys her blend of Cheery-O’s and Kitty Kibble, I sip my first cup of coffee, black because I’ve run out of half-and-half, and try to wake up. Dash’s never-ending alarms drove me nuts, but I was wide-awake by the time my day started. I pass the snake plant he left in my living room, but I don’t attempt to water it because God knows what I’d pour into it. I should probably research how to keep it alive though.

Good thing it seems to thrive on neglect.

God, that’s a depressing metaphor for the way I care for things…all or nothing…

Plodding back into my bathroom, I strip and step under the shower spray, desperate to wash away the fog of lethargy that has settled over me during the last week. I am happy to be able to focus solely on work, but my brain is not functioning at peak power. Also, happy is an exaggeration.

I’m not an idiot. I know exactly what’s wrong with me. I screwed up with Dash, and I can’t see the path to fixing it. Normally I would just push through, put it behind me, date someone else, replace the memories.

But I don’t want to. I don’t want anyone but him. I revisit our memories so often for comfort that I would cry if I lost them. But I also don’t know how to fix what I broke. I really laid into him and he just left. He didn’t even argue. He gave me exactly what I asked for, space and time by myself.

How was I supposed to know I would hate it? That it wouldn’t fix anything?

I dry my hair and apply my makeup, determined to cover the bags under my eyes, but my head is still underwater. Every thought is harder to form, every action more difficult to complete. I struggle to make it through my normal workday, and my company needs me now more than ever. Everything is resting on my shoulders, and I can’t seem to straighten my back under the pressure.

I thought that sending Dash away would make things go back to normal, but it hasn’t. I’m not the same person I was before I met him. I’ve changed, and stepping back into my old patterns feels like putting on a wet swimsuit—cold and uncomfortable. Much like my bed, now that he’s gone.

Dammit! Enough!I can’t go through my day mooning over a man I shoved away with my shitty temper. I’ve well and truly lost him. The best I can do now is pull up my big girl panties and keep trying to save my business.

I grab a random bra and underwear, not caring that they don’t match. They are both clean, and I haven’t done laundry in a week. I pick a red silk blouse because it is dry-clean only and therefore still hanging clean in my closet. The blue plaid flannel pants I pair it with cannot claim the same, but no one will see them beneath the table. I pad back to the table barefoot, ready for work. If six-months-ago me were here, she’d slap me upside the head, but I can’t find the energy to care.

I’m here on time, and that’s a win.

I check my phone for my video conference call schedule. My first meeting is with the group of beta screeners using the community platform Dash designed. Nicola and Emmy are going to sit in too and take notes, but I am going to lead the feedback session. I love talking to my customer base. I thrive on their input for coming up with new ideas.

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