Page 54 of So Wrong It's Right

I shake my head. “No. I cared enough about Heather to ask her to marry me, but I never felt my world was upside down when I was with her.”

“You’re not going to like what I have to say, son. But I’m going to say it anyway. The reason you closed yourself off from love wasn’t because Heather didn’t return your feelings. It was because you were humiliated. It isn’t fear of love that’s imprisoned you. It’s your pride.”

She’s wrong. I wanted to marry Heather, share my life with her. And she...shit. She humiliated me. She may not have meant to cause lasting damage. She was right to say no to a marriage proposal she didn’t want, and I’ve never looked all that closely at how that must have affected her also. She was in that viral video as much as I was, and she got blindsided by the whole thing. At least I knew what was going on.

“I can see your wheels turning, so I’m going to let you spend some time with your deep thoughts. Besides, your father and I have a class tonight.”

I get up with her and walk her to the door. “What class?”

Her eyes dart to the side. “It’s actually more of an activity than a class.”

“Why do I not want to ask you to elaborate, Mother?”

She raises her palms with her shoulder shrug. “Naked gardening.”

“What? Did you just say—?”

“It’s not sexy. It’s about connecting to the earth and clearing your energy. You know your father and I have been exploring nudism.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I keep trying to block it out, but you keep reminding me.”

“Well, a group of us meet on a private, secluded estate, and we weed flower beds in the nude. It’s very refreshing.”

I close my eyes. Stella would love her. Adore her really. She’d probably want to do the naked gardening too. And I’m increasingly uncomfortable with the idea. “Thanks for watering my plants. Have fun at your class. Give my best to Dad.”

She stops in the doorway and turns back to me, palming my cheek. “You deserve to be happy, Christopher. Please let yourself.”

When she’s gone, I try to resist the urge, but finally give in and power up my computer, finding the file I’m looking for pretty easily.

The video starts playing, and I’m thrown back into the head and heart of a young, stupid man again. Me. Or at least the man I used to be. The music starts. “Ain’t No Other Man.” There I am. Zoot suit from the ‘20s. Fedora. Lip-synching. Dancing an awkwardly choreographed number. In a food court at the mall where we met. Jesus. Friends join in. Heather’s brother and sister. Her parents. My parents. There I am on my knee. Opening a ring box. Cameras on both of us because we’re being filmed for a cable show calledMarry Me Flashmob. There’s Heather’s stunned face. There’s the close-up of me as the realization hits me for the first time that she might say no.

I look...young. Stupid. Weak.

Camera zooms to Heather. She looks...regretful. Sad. Embarrassed.

The show aired this clip, of course. They had the right to. It was good TV, right? I’d signed the contract. No way out.

But it wasn’t just the show that aired the clip.

I got invited to all the late-night talk shows after it went viral. I was known as the “Ain’t No Way Man.” I declined the TV appearances, of course. But it was a public trial, and I was judged as the idiot who had no idea his girlfriend wasn’t in love with him. That’s what she told me. On camera.

I vowed to not ever face that again. The humiliation. The broken heart. Crushed dreams. I know I’m just not built for that. And life has been easier ever since I decided not to let myself get that close to anyone again. Not to express how I feel inside. Not to hope for anything.

I watch the video again, thinking it will help me stay strong, to know that life with Stella would be my worst nightmare. Never-ending opportunities for YouTube fail videos. I pause on my close-up this time, trying to remember that feeling so I never feel it again.

But I don’t think I looked weak now. I think...I think I looked brave.

I was willing to risk a lot. I was bolder then. Since that day, I’ve been auditing my life instead of engaging in it.

Wasting it, really.

I don’t want to die in a tan apartment, alone and scared of feeling anything. I want color and sparkle and unpredictable chaos in my life.

I want Stella in my life.

My heart is thumping a hundred miles an hour as regret fills my stomach.

If I’d have stayed on that dance floor... we would have spent the night together Saturday. And we’d have been making love all weekend.

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