When I walked into the living room, I saw a large pastel-yellow gift bag and a delivery box on my coffee table. In front of them lay a note with a key taped to it that I immediately recognized as the spare key we had given Donna and Richard for emergencies.
The sight that greets me when I open my fridge makes me smile widely, and I think Donna just secured her place inHeaven.
My fridge is neatly packed with all my favorite foods: the promised muffins, my favorite fruits and veggies, two jugs of my preferred almond milk, two jugs of iced tea, fresh eggs, and thatreally goodParmesan she gets at the Italian market. I open my freezer and laugh when I see the neatly stacked casseroles and tins of meatballs and ziti. My mouth waters just thinking about it.
I was so nervous when Paul brought me here for the first time to meet his family. I had wanted them to like me so much, and I had been worried because Paul was the first relationship I'd ever had that was serious enough to meet the family.
I didn't really date too much in high school, too focused on getting out of my house. My parents were arctic with each other, so I had no example of a romantic relationship to emulate. Romance books became an escape for me. Back then, they became the basis for what I was looking for in a relationship—a little silly and naive, but all I had at the time.
Once I got to college, I cut contact with my parents, emotionally and financially, and afterward, I felt a sense of freedom I'd never experienced before. Their parenting styles toward Tess and me were different.
With her, they suffocated.
With me, they retreated.
Tess wouldn't bend to them, always following her own path, but I'm not as strong as her. For too long, despite Tess's gentle warnings, I tried so hard to get them to acknowledge me. Even having those same demands imposed on me would have felt better than what I actually received from them, which was absolutely nothing.
They always demanded academic excellence from Tess, and I saw that as my way in. I would present my near-perfect report cards to them, only to receive a dismissive nod in return. I wroteand rewrote papers until they were flawless, then left them on their desks with the teacher's A+ in bright red marker at the top, only to find them later in the trash. I showed them my Honor Society award and told them the ceremony time, only for them not to show up.
That was the moment I realized that nothing I ever did would be good enough, so I stopped caring. I shifted my focus to gettingoutinstead. I graduated with a near-perfect GPA and was accepted to the University of North Carolina with a decent scholarship.
That August after I graduated was the last time I ever talked to them, a tepid goodbye before I drove away to school.
It was scary, exhilarating, difficult, and wonderful.
Sure, I had to waitress at diners all four years of college just to pay my bills, but getting screamed at for forgetting someone's syrup when it's directly in front of them can really build character.
My first year of college, living in dorm life, was chaotic, messy, and drama-filled,and I felt so alive.I made good grades, waited tables, and came home smelling like bacon and sweat. I hung out with friends whenever I could, went on many awful dates, and got drunk on gross beer at frat parties, waking up one too many times to spend my morning with my head in the toilet.
In my sophomore year, Tess returned from her deployment and rented a two-bedroom apartment halfway between her base and my campus, allowing me to live rent-free while I got my Bachelor's. She had threatened bodily harm if I even dared to try to pay rent, so I helped out with groceries and takeout dinners. This gave me more financial freedom to save while still keeping up with my school bills.
I was luckier than most of my friends in that regard, and am eternally grateful to my older sister.
Outside of school and work, I actually had two relationshipsthrough college.
The first was not great. His name was Max, and he was a freshman like me. We met in the grungy basement of my first college party. We dated for a month before taking the next step. I was sexually inexperienced and honestly(regrettably)just wanted to get it over with. I lost my virginity to him in an objectively unsexy way, on his uncomfortable dorm bed while his roommate banged on the door for us to hurry up so he could play World of Warcraft.
While the sex did get better and I learned what I like and don't like, I was incredibly bad at establishing boundaries and speaking up for myself. Max stomped over lines I wasn't even sure how to express hurt me,talking to other girls, namely.
He also tried to mold me into someone that hewantedto date instead of accepting me for myself. I made mistakes with my silence and just accepted his dismissal as just the way relationships worked.
After six months, I finally found the courage to break up with him, which caused him to do a complete 180 and start making promises he had no intention of keeping.
I'm glad I didn't believe his pretty words. I just remembered all of his actions, or inaction, throughout our relationship and stood my ground, despite feeling shaky and nervous. I think that's something about me that I'm still extremely proud of and carry with me today.
My second relationship was better. Spencer was nice, handsome, and a finance major too. We had a lot in common, and our relationship lasted from junior year through graduation.
Then we realized our futures weren't compatible.
We were going to be on opposite sides of the country, him in California for work and me in Massachusetts for grad school,and we were unwilling to do long distance. Spencer and I parted amicably, and honestly, I got over the relationship very quickly.
At that time, I was completely focused on moving to Massachusetts, obtaining my Master's degree, and working full-time as aJunior Advisorat a local bank. I barely had time for a dating life.
Until Paul.
Paul had come out of nowhere and turned my world upside down. We'd made eye contact in the campus library. I had been trying to focus on a paper for myInvestment Analysisclass when he walked right up to me, flashing a charming grin. Paul wasn't just all looks, he was nice and funny, and I liked him. He asked for my number, and I gave it without a second thought.
Paul was a good boyfriend—loving, intimate, and complimentary. He was understanding about my busy schedule, his own packed with his internship at City Hall and classes.
