She just shrugged her shoulders, “I think I’m missing something in me, you know? Everyone else seems to have this light in them, and I… I just don’t.”
I motioned for her to turn, and she listened, facing the mirror, her legs crossed underneath her. “Why do you think that?” I asked as I pulled out her hairbrush.
“I don’t know how to connect with anyone. Apparently, I’m cold… distant. I’m not even connected with myself,” she explained, and I carefully brushed through her hair, freeing it of any tangles and knots. “I have nothing to complain about. I have everything… but sometimes I wonder if… if I’m broken.”
She wasn’t sad as she explained. She spoke the words as if they were an obvious truth.
“I think we’re all a bit broken,” I mumbled.
She looked at me through the mirror, her eyes meeting mine with a level of clarity I hadn’t seen all night. “Do you think we can be fixed?”
I sighed as I thought about it. I wanted to believe we could be fixed, but if you were broken by your own doing, did you deserve to be fixed? I shook the thoughts away and refocused on Bec, “Yeah, you can be fixed.”
She hummed in response, her eyes falling closed again. I could feel her fading quickly, so I braided her hair down her back and helped her off the counter. I had accepted that she would be sleeping in her dress, as she stumbled out of the bathroom and into her room, collapsing onto her bed.
“Thanks for picking me up, Rome,” she mumbled into a pillow that she was now cradling in her arms. “You’re nice sometimes, but I didn’t tell you that.”
I laughed quietly and pulled a blanket over her, “You’re very welcome, Bec. Have sweet dreams.”
She fell asleep before she could hear me. I took a moment to stare at her, trying to figure out where this version of Bec had come from. Maybe it was a part of her that she hid from the world to protect herself.
I couldn’t fault her. We were all guilty of it–hiding the parts of ourselves that we didn’t deem worthy. The parts we were worried would be criticized.
I did the same every day. Where she masked it with indifference, I masked my insecurities with humor. She and I were more alike than I had ever realized.
I stared at her for a moment more. Her face was soft and relaxed, free from the worries of her everyday life andresponsibilities.
“This is probably creepy,” I mumbled to myself as I left her room, closing the door softly behind me. “Don’t stare at your boss while she sleeps.”
I was exhausted after a full day of work, an evening with my family attempting to make sourdough, and then chasing down Bec through the streets of New York City.
I squinted at the clock she had in her living room.3 am.Lovely. I had to be back here in only five hours. It would take forty-five minutes to get home and another two hours to finally fall asleep. However, my dreams would soon be interrupted, as they always are.
I was a professional at putting on a mask of happiness, but at night, when the world slept and while I was alone, the truth I had worked hard to suppress always came out. The failures that circled my mind, that I desperately tried to push away, were front and center in my dreams.
I sighed and stared out the window once more, embracing the city lights. I knew I needed to talk to someone about all that circled through my mind, but who? My family saw me as fun-loving Rome, and my friends assumed I was fine because I always had a smile on my face. How long would it take for someone to finally see past the facade? To see the demons in my soul? The failures that haunted me?
Chapter Four
BEC
The light filtered into the room, partially blinding my tired andveryhungover eyes. Based on the pounding in my skull, I must have drunk more than I had realized. Slowly, I peeled my eyes open and tried to remember what exactly had happened last night that ended with me back in my bed.
The memories came rushing back as I fully woke. Memories of dancing with Alexandra, the lights shining around us, Rome storming in with that glare and the hoodie I had never seen himin before, him rushing me past the paparazzi, and then nothing. I must have fallen asleep on the drive home.
I somehow ended up in my own bed, but was still in my black dress from last night.
A sigh passed my lips as I burrowed deeper into my blankets, hoping for a bit more time to sleep away the headache, but my stupid alarm decided to start blaring through the room. I groaned as I slapped at my nightstand, trying to shut the annoying thing up.
“Goddamn it,” I mumbled as I sat up and scrubbed my hands down my face. I had no memory of coming up to my apartment and getting into my bed, but I must have been of some sound mind based on my room. My shoes were placed on the floor next to my closet, my coat was in the dry cleaning pile, and even the small handbag I had taken was resting on my nightstand with the items nicely organized next to it. Thank God I didn’t lose it–it was a limited-edition, vintage Hermes.
I stumbled out of my bed and towards the en-suite bathroom. The cool floors against my feet were oddly calming, but the moment I took a look at my face, I wished I had just slept the day away. There were remnants of mascara under my eyes, further accentuating my dark circles.
My dark brown hair was an entirely different story. It was braided down my back and neatly brushed.
“What the fuck?” I mumbled to myself as I untied the braid, stripped myself of my dress, and jumped into the shower, hoping to scrub the hangover away. I didn’t even know I could braid hair; I never had in the past.
Growing up with access to money as I had meant my life had been filled with people doing everything for me. I had never been grocery shopping–as my assistant ordered and organized the food in my cabinets and fridge. I didn’t even know what to do with the food, always having a personal chef to preparemy meals. I didn’t even know how to do my own laundry. It sometimes felt pathetic how little I knew of the real world.
