Page 23 of Love in the Dark

“From what?” She asks, her eyes closed.

It’s not something I can explain to a stranger, so I keep it simple. “From the things that stop me from being able to do what I want to do.”

“A dream of yours?”

“Amongst other things, yeah.”

“What is it?”

She’s the first person apart from my sister who’s asked me that. My path has been laid out for me since before I was born, so no one in my circle has ever bothered to ask if I wanted anything else, because why would I?

Supposedly, I already have it all.

“To own my own restaurant.”

“Oh, yeah?” A soft smile touches her mouth, her eyes still closed. “That’s awesome. What’s keeping you from doing it?”

There’s years-long worth of family trauma and drama I’d have to take her through to answer that question, none of which I want to share, so I settle for something tangentially true.

“I need to pay the bills.”

She hums in approval. “Yeah, and you must earn a good living as a lawyer.”

I have no idea, so I nod. I realize she can’t see that, so I say, “Yeah.”

We sit in comfortable silence for a few seconds before I ask, “What’s yours?”

She sighs, sinking deeper into the pillow as she does so.

“To be truly happy.”

I chuckle softly, not at her answer but at my own. “That’s more inspirational than mine.”

A small frown pulls at her brow and I realize I haven’t looked away from her face in minutes.

I move my arm from behind my head and turn so I’m facing her. Even if she is half asleep still, in this position I get to watch her all the micro expressions as they develop on her face.

“Not necessarily,” she whispers. “Sounds like we might actually have wished for the same thing.”

She pauses and I can sense that she wants to add something else. She’s hesitating, deciding whether to get this off her chest or not.

“I don’t think I know how to be happy,” she says, “I’m not sure if it’s even possible for me.”

Her tone is emotionless. Her words aren’t delivered passionately or despondently, just matter of fact, but her voice is still small and I don’t think it’s just because of her need to sleep.

“You want to know a secret?”

“Always,” she answers.

“I don’t think anyone does. I think that’s the Big Lie.” Her eyes open for the first time since I laid down next to her. They immediately find mine, urging me with a look to keep going. I think about my words. “I think being happy takes hard work and doesn’t come easy. You have to make decisions every day to get you there and sometimes it feels like you have to claw for every single inch of contentment.” I turn onto my back once more and stare at the ceiling, running a hand through my hair. A sliver of moonlight hits the ceiling, its shape looking like a blade. “‘Happiness’ is built brick by brick with bloodied hands, that’s the truth. But it’s marketed to us as this thing that we’re just supposed tobeso that, when you’re not, it feels like maybeyou’remissing something. Like you’re the problem and it comes naturally to everyone else except you. But it doesn’t and there’s nothing wrong with you.” I sigh, thinking about my own thoughts and feelings on the subject. “Being happy is fucking hard.”

When I finish, I’m aware that my answer went far beyond the scope of what she probably needed or wanted to hear, but I’m no longer looking at her so I have no idea what she thinks of my rant.

“You must be a good lawyer.”

She says it with a smile but her tone is also pensive, like I’ve given her something to think about. I chuckle instead of replying, not wanting to further the lie, especially now.

The silence stretches for long moments and I think maybe she’s fallen asleep this time.

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